Fallen Angels
by TragedyBunny
Summary: Married life is not all that it seems for Christine and Raoul. When she discovers a terrible truth it drives her back to the Paris Opera, but will her angel welome her with open arms?I know this isn't very well edited, apparently my computer ate my edits,
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the plot of "Phantom of the Opera"_. _I will be editing this story for grammar and such, so expect a repost of old chapters._

Fallen Angels Chap. 1

It was the Christmas season of 1875 and Christine was delighted to have returned to Paris. Shortly after they had fled the underground labyrinth of the Opera house, Christine and Raoul had been married. They had taken a few years hiatus in France's countryside. Raoul had believed Christine needed time away from the decadent setting of Paris and had absolutely forbid her from any singing performances. They had narrowly avoided the bloodshed that followed in the Paris Commune, the violence of which had taken the lives of Raoul's parents. Now they returned, due to their death, and Raoul's inheritance of both position and fortune. Both of them desperately hoped that old ghosts would remain at peace. Not that Christine would ever set foot on stage again, Raoul had claimed that it would not only be unseemly for a lady who was now a viscountess, but also was likely to be emotionally trying for her.

"_Raoul is always so good to me, helping with decisions, guiding me in life."_ She wandered along the streets; her chestnut curls done up in the proper fashion for a noble lady, her dress one of the latest from a Royal London designer. She couldn't help but worry about Raoul. Ever since his parents died, he had been a little off. Christine herself knew what it was like to grieve, but her heart told her that Raoul's behavior had become unhealthy; he was too consumed by whatever thoughts plagued him. These thoughts had caused him to become indifferent and withdrawn at times. She did not want to dwell on bleak thoughts; she wanted to be excited by her return. As she shopped for the upcoming holiday, she wandered in a dreamy daze into the theatre district. Here the elite spent their evening during the proper season for it. The area boasted the new Opera National de Paris, just built, along with many theatres and ballets. Christine couldn't help but inspect the magnificent building, as she approached the doors a poster caught her attention. The poster stated that the Opera's prima ballerina was the world renowned Margaret Giry. "Meg" she whispered, as she gazed at the perfect, painted image of a the blonde girl, a few years older than Christine remembered. A pang of guilt crossed Christine's mind, she hadn't even thought of the Giry's during her return.

She had lost track of the two over the las few years, she knew they had been working for various establishments and had been forced to flee during the Commune. Their letter writing had always been guesswork because of Raoul's need to travel between estates, they were lucky to have letters reach each other. A visit to old friends would be in order, if Raoul would give his approval. Since they'd been married, Raoul had been trying to train Christine into the role of a Viscountess, and who she associated with was of particular interest to him. This she understood with patience, knowing that she had duties that might preclude pleasures she yearned after. She still couldn't see what he would have against the Giry's, they were old friends, and the Madame had aided them in their time of need and been like a mother to Christine.

After a short inspection of the impressive architecture of the new Opera house, Christine began her trek though the snowy streets of Paris, towards the manor her and Raoul now called home. No matter how many fine horses and carriages they owned, Christine still preferred her long dreamy walks. It was when her mind could wander and she could dream as she had when she was a young girl. Her childhood, even after her father's death, was filled with her own world, a world that has once included the Angel of Music. This was a world of daydream and pretend. Raoul did not care for her sometimes childish behavior, but never said much. The snow swirled around her; she loved the snow that fell in weather that was not too cold, more like fairy dust then frozen water. Lost in her dream world, Christine found herself humming a song from what seemed like another lifetime. The song surprised her and conjured before her the image of a man in a mask, an image she had so long tried to banish to the past. She stopped in her tracks, gazing as if he were before her now. The image changed to one of a broken man, lacking his mask, crying for the loss of his only love. She almost reached out to the pitiful hallucination. Shaking her head brought her quickly back to the moment. _"Maybe it is even now too early to be back in this place. " _She tried to quickly put this all from her mind as she saw that she was nearly home. She put on a face of calm and content, to not worry Raoul in this happy season.

As she approached the manor's gates, the sensation of no longer being alone washed over her. Not even bothering to look, she told herself no one was there; she had just spent to much time reminiscing. She walked through the gates and up to the front door without ever looking behind her. As she entered she pressed the fine presents she had purchased for Raoul against her chest. These small parcels contained the gifts Christine had agonized over picking out for a month. One was what had to be considered the finest pocket watch in all of Paris, engraved with Raoul's name and set with an impressive collection of gems; the other was a ring that exactly replicated a long lost family heirloom. Upon her entrance, Christine believed her husband to be in his study, going over whatever business needed his attention. This was his usual habit for the time of day. Smiling to herself at her success, she crept up the winding oak staircase to the second floor, towards the bedroom to hide Raoul's presents. Rounding the top of the stairs, she heard a faint giggle coming out of the master bedroom. As she drew nearer to the door the giggle became the distinct, obnoxiously squeaky giggle of their maid, Lizette. "Monsieur, you are an animal!" She exclaimed breathlessly as Christine cautiously approached the door. She listened at the door but could not bring herself to peer through the slight crack, a sense of betrayal and horror filling her mind. "Are you not worried that Madame may return soon?"

Raoul's voice responded to the maid's question. "You know how Madame is; she is in the habit of wandering for a long period of time. She will not return soon. We have all the time in the world." Raoul then laughed in delight at something Christine could not hear, she knew only that he sounded more joyous than he had with her lately, more like the old Raoul. It stung her to here him refer to her as the "Madame", like she had been an unwanted marriage via contract. His voice rang out from the bedroom once again. "Come here my little Lizzy, there are many needs I have for you."

The simpering, idiot girl giggled again. "Oh Raoul, you are so good to me. " It was strange to Christine how in this moment of pain she could focus on the small details of the house she had begun to call home. She took in the fine blue of the upstairs hallway, the delicate glass lamps that were molded into the walls, the dark stained doors of the many bedrooms that she had hoped one day would be filled with children, friends and family. _"That day that may never come now."_ She chocked back the tears and sobs that would give away the fact that she eavesdropped on the couple. "_How can he do this to me? How can he betray me? Haven't I been a wonderful, loving, obedient wife? Haven't I given him everything, done everything for him he asked, and more?" _ Gathering her courage, she brought herself to look through the tiny crack. Peering in, she saw Raoul, completely nude, lovingly undressing Lizzy's generous form. He was gently undoing the girl's corset. Her long black hair was unwound and cascaded to her waist; her bright brown eyes were alight with desire for the Viscount. Completely disgraced, Christine turned to walk away, feeling unloved and moreover unwanted. She would return when the illicit lovers were finished. As she reached the top of the stairs she glanced down to the packages in her arms. The packages had once been so important, now they had been all but forgotten. A rage burst forth in Christine, as she thought about the month she had spent attempting to find the right presents for her much beloved husband, and how he had chosen to repay her. _"He will not get away with this betrayal. " _ Turning sharply back in the opposite direction, she charged the bedroom door, kicking it wide open to reveal Raoul and Lizzy. She hurled the two packages across the room and into the wall, most assuredly breaking the pocket watch. Lizzy let out a terrible scream as though death itself had entered t he door, Raoul stared dumbly, and Christine calmly made her way to the two of them, her eyes burning like an demon who had just been insulted. The girl quickly scraped up her clothes in a lame attempt to cover herself before her Madame, Raoul continued to stare. "Get out of here, you shameless little harlot." Christine spoke though gritted teeth. Lizzy hurried to obey, dashing out still mostly naked. "How long?" She asked of her husband in a voice that belied nothing of her inner turmoil.

"For awhile now." He responded as if to the question of some trifling matter, such as how long an opera had been running at the theatre. "How could you Raoul? Haven't I been everything you ever wanted? How could you betray our love?"

"Christine you must not allow this to bother you so much, it is not a betrayal." He approached her, putting his hands on her shoulders. He had not even the shame enough to attempt to cover his nudity. "I love you no less, but you must understand, sometimes a man has a need that his wife cannot fulfill. Please understand this Christine."

"No." She backed away from him, the tears beginning to fill her eyes, her barriers breaking down. "It has all been nothing but a lie." She turned to flee him then, to flee the house, the affair, the hurt, the confusion, everything. Raoul stopped by quickly grabbing her arm hard enough to cause her to wince. He pulled her back towards him and spun her around at the same time so that she faced him. He grabbed her other arm, and dug his fingers into both of them hard enough to cause her to wince. She faced him and saw that his face was contorted with fury, it was the first time that Christine had known a fear of him. Now she found herself face to face with the ghost of a scene from long ago, and she was more afraid than she had been when the Phantom was unleashing his fury at her. Raoul scared her more than the Opera ghost ever could of, because of the hate that seemed to cover him, replacing him with a man she did not know. "Christine, you are my wife, mine. You will do as I say and understand my needs as a man."

"Raoul, you're hurting me." She managed to gasp out through the tears that were now rapidly falling. "Please let go." She looked up into his eyes, silently pleading with him. Raoul hesitantly released his grip on her. "There's a good girl. Now go downstairs and I shall be down in a moment." He spoke to her in the irritating tone one would take with a child. it made her blood boil. _"You bastard."_ Christine shook her head in a vague manner, not really a yes or no, and silently left the room. Reaching the top of the stairs, she yelled behind her, "And I shall not be returning", loud enough for the servants to hear. She quickly ran down the stairs and back out into the Parisian winter.

She drew her cloak around her, and pulled the hood up, to protect herself from still falling snow and the breeze that continually grew colder. She darted through the roads, traversing her path back to the heart of the city. She needed desperately to confide in someone, to share this pain that threatened to shatter her. She instinctually began to look for Madame Giry, she had been the closest thing Christine had ever had to mother, and Meg had been her only sibling. She set her course to the Opera house where Meg worked, her only hope of finding them in the vast metropolis. She walked not seeing where it was she went; dead to the world, bumping in to passerbys and mumbling excuses. She at last reached the great temple to song and strode through the doors, which were not at all locked. She drew in a deep breath as a wave of nostalgia passed over her, and an opera house of old superimposed itself on the one she currently stood in. She almost see Carllota strutting about the lobby, waiting for her carriage to pull up to the door, or the managers standing at the top of the stairs, reading the ghost's letters, or her and Meg as children dancing through the lobby and playing games with the cleaning ladies. She forgot all else as she breathed in the air of the place, it felt like a true homecoming. She was calmed for the moment as she boldly began exploring the seemingly deserted opera house. She walked into the theatre portion of the building using the regular guests' entrance. She made her way to one of the luxury boxes where she stood staring at the stage, her heart fluttering inside of her. She almost hated to admit she had missed the stage. She had been performing since she was very young, and to not be doing so now seemed foreign to her. Finally, someone came out of the shadows and approached her as she stood there dreaming and reminiscing. "Madame, is there something I can do for you?" His words brought her out of her reverie and back to the cruel reality at hand. She stared at the squat man in a suit, wondering where exactly he had come from. "Yes, I am looking for Madame Margolise Giry. Do you know where she and her daughter reside?"

He looked at her for a moment, as though trying to remember where it was that he had seen her. Giving up on her identity he answered question. "No, Madame, I'm not sure where their house is. I know that they reside in a house within the city. They are both employed here, so you are welcome to come back looking for them. The managers might be able to tell you where they live, but none of the higher ups are here today." Christine's hope of finding someone who could give her solace and help her cope was shattered. She gave the man a dismal look as she tried desperately to plot what she should do next. "Is something wrong Madame? Could I help you in any other way?" _"Not unless you can turn back time." _

"No, thank you for the information though." With that she headed back into the streets. For hours Christine wound her way through the streets clogged with mud and the snow that still fell continuously on the city. She made her way in and out of districts, up and down boulevards, and over bridges. She walked over the area within a mile of the theatre and began moving outward, no longer really looking for the Girys, but instead simply trying to escape what had transpired. Cold and alone, not willing to return to Raoul, she continued to wander and cry softly. The streets became an incoherent maze, she no longer knew nor cared where it was she walked. Her mind haunted her with images and thoughts as she journeyed through the city. After hours of her endless walking, just as darkness began to fall, she found herself somehow at the cemetery where her father's tomb was. Numbly, she pushed aside the wrought iron gates and entered. She searched for the long neglected tomb, perhaps the only place where she could feel comforted. On the far side of the great layout of tombs and graves, she finally reached her goal. There she reached the elegant marble tomb bearing the name Daae. She slowly began to ascend the steps to reach the entrance to the tomb, only to collapse halfway up. Exhausted, Christine pulled herself into a sitting position and wrapped her arms around herself. She was cold, tired, lonely, and more miserable than she had ever been, she soon began weeping. Once again, she was nothing more than a lost wandering child. Her sobs deepened. _"Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll just die here and now, end this lifetime of pain." _ So, deep was Christine's misery that she could not hear the footsteps that had quietly followed at a distance through the snow covered graves. She did not hear as the same steps approached her now, with her head down and tears running down her cheeks. She had turned her back to the side of the monument, facing the center of the steps; her watcher silently ascended the stairs towards her. She heard not as he placed his firm hands on her shoulders, the scent of his cologne filling the air around her, in an attempt to comfort her, instead she fainted out of fright and sheer exhaustion.

A light peeked through the window in the bedroom where Christine lay, rousing her back to life. She was warm and comfortable, and at first she hoped the terrible memories were nothing more than a nightmare. As she opened her eyes, the unfamiliarity of the room in which she lay quickly betrayed the opposite case. She glanced down at herself beneath the quilt which covered her and blushed; she wore only her undergarments, minus the tight corset. Her gazed drifted over the room. It was small, with a dresser, a vanity, and a closet, plus the bed in which she slept, all of a very fine make. It seemed to lack any sort of personal touches, leading her to believe she was in someone's guest bedroom. A smell of breakfast cooking began to waft up through house, making her both hungry, and a little more curious of her host. Pushing the covers back, she rose from the bed. It was then her attention was turned to the small bedside table she had somehow missed in her earlier surveillance of the room. Christine drew in a sharp breath, not willing to believe what it was that rested on the table before her eyes. Her finger reached out gently to a vase to caress the red rose that was there within, a red rose with a ribbon of black satin tied into a bow on the stem. A fine piece of stationary lay folded next to the small vase. Her heart nearly stopped as she gingerly picked up the note, the scent of a man's cologne clung to it, a scent Christine remembered from the night before, and not surprisingly, from years before that. _"So nice a scent, I never really took notice of it, but I remember it now." _ She quickly unfolded the note and read: "Your guardian Angel still resides in Paris." Just one simple sentence and Christine felt as though the breath had been knocked out of her. _"He's still taking care of me. Just like when I was a child." _She couldn't believe that a man she had so terribly betrayed would come to her rescue yet again. She burned with embarassment thinking of the sight she must have been when he had found her. _"How long had he been watching me? God, am I with him now?" _Inside she felt a strange mingling of fear and excitement at her thought. No matter where she was, it was time to greet her host. She located her dress hanging from one of the bedposts and quickly put it on, not bothering to put the corset back on. Then quietly padded downstairs.

A happy surprise awaited Christine downstairs, Meg Giry was crossing through the livingroom towards the kitchen. She spotted Christine on the stairs and ran to throw her arms around her. "You're finally awake." Meg's face revealed her delight at seeing her friend for the first time in years. "We've much to talk about, but you must eat first, breakfast has just been served." Meg was beaming at her, unaware of her friend's inner turmoil. Christine had no answer to her exuberance, instead she just allowed herself to be led to the brightly lit dining room of the handsome and rather well furnished home. Madame Giry was already seated and the maid had begun serving the meal. Meg had Christine seated across from her and the conversation began in earnest. Christine lost herself in Meg's story of how her and her mother became employed at the new Opera house and howt hey had risen to the lofty height of such a house, a couple of servants, and nice carriage. As she listened, she forgot most of yesterday and absobed herself in Meg's happiness. Both her and her mother worked at the opera still, Meg the star of its ballet, her mother a teacher of its younger students and an assistant director. They both earned fairly good salaries. Meg even had a young beau, one Henri Frances, opera tenor and hopeless romantic. The mention of happy romance made Christine's heart ache. Meg turned to her then, "And what of you Christine, what have your days been like."

The tears of yesterday found their way back to her eyes, as her fork clattered to her plate. "Until yesterday I lived in a perfect world." She made her best effort to talk without sobbing as both Girys left their seats to be near her, Meg reaching out to clasp her hand. "Raoul and I have just returned to Paris, and I have come to find he has been unfaithful. I saw it with my own eyes." Her tears flowed silently as she took a moment to choke back the loud sobs that threatened her again. "He was absolutely terrible about it, so mean. Not at all like the Raoul I know, like he's become a different person entirely." Meg clasped her hand even tighter as Madame Giry stroked her hair. "I had no idea, Christine. We thought you had simply passed out while visting your father's grave." They both styed close to her, waiting for tears to let up. "I don't know what I shall do now. How am I supposed to face something like this?" She turned to the Madame now, who had been the only like a mother she had ever known.

She responded, knowing the query had been put to her. "My dear you have three choices: You may forget all of this and return to Raoul and live out your life as if nothing had ever happened, you may ask Raoul to be penitent and you will forgive him because you love him, or you can walk away from the entire situation, decide that not even your love can help you forgive him and eventually a divorce will follow. The choice only you can make though." She absorbed this slowly, trying to see through her pain to the right choice. "What if I want to love him and forgive him, but I don't think he's going the be apologetic? He said he didn't believe he was wrong." She wanted to forgive him, she wanted their old life back. "Give him time, and an oppurtunity, if you are willing to wait. Sometimes it takes time to believe youself to be wrong. Until then, you are more then welcome to stay with us. Now you must have a warm bath and clean clothes, Meg will lend you one of her dresses." Christine found that by this time her tears had dried up, at least for the moment being. She was escorted upstairs by Madame Giry and into Meg's room to pick out a dress as the maid drew her a bath. As they stood at the wardrobe, sifting through Meg's vast collection of winter dresses, Christine drew in her courage and put the question that had been in the back of her mind since she had woken to her. "How is it that I came to be here last night? I know the last place I was at was my father's grave. I know there was someone else there as well." At first there was no answer expcept a stony silence and then a very hesistant. "He brought you here." Christine of course needed no explination of who, he, was. She had known all along, only seeking this answer for an ultimate conformation. The Madame continued, "He told me could not leave you where it was that he had found you. He also said he had no wish to speak to you, if you are grateful, I may convey it to him the next time we encounter one another. He left you a small token to let you know it was him." Oddly, she was hurt bit hurt by him not even waiting to see if she was okay. "I found the rose and note, but I wanted to know for sure. Do you see him often?" The Madame's eyes widened, "Once in awhile, he may stop in, or I may see him in passing, but we do not keep regular contact." Christine let out a nervous sort a laugh. "It's funny, I suppose I should be afraid of him, but I no longer am. Convey my thanks if you should see him again." She was then off to the bath, being told it would grow cold. Madame Giry almost laughd to herself, Christine was still wound in a love triangle she wasn't even consciously aware of. _"The solution should play out better than any opera's climax, if the bastard who calls himself a Viscount hasn't destroyed her." _She fumed against Raoul, hurting the girl who had been her second daughter, she wished Christine would have chose different than to give him a second chance. She headed bakc downstairs to Meg and a day full of pondering the situation of a girl who was losing everything all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

Fallen Angels chap.2

Christine sat beside the Girys in their carriage as it made its way towards the manor of the Viscount Du Chagny. At first she had been in no hurry to see Raoul again, but she began to grow curious of the state of their marriage. She had been gone for three days and now she would to a penitent husband, or collect her thing from a churlish bastard. Her heart cried to her, she still had love for Raoul, but she it would be more painful to stay and watch him drift away from her, than to leave altogether at once. He had made her feel worthless, even after all that she had done, the little opera singer wasn't enough for a Viscount, he had to have more. I should have expected this, his whole society has treated me as though I were nothing since the moment I married him. She was never close to Raoul's parents; they hadn't been thrilled to see the woman their son had chosen to marry and were considerably cold to her until their death. His upper class friends were no different, Christine heard quite a few rude terms applied to her throughout their years of marriage. The abuse worsened as she failed to produce any sons to inherit his title. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. The whole ride Christine tried desperately to keep from shaking nervously; it finally came under control as the carriage pulled into the courtyard of the manor. The three ladies descended and approached the door, before they could even approach and ring the bell, the door was flung open and an irate Raoul stood before them. "What a wonderful surprise that my wife should see fit to return home. Won't you ladies please come in." His voice dripped with sarcasm and had a dangerous edge to it. They entered cautiously, Raoul stepping back from the doorway. "See to the Girys." He commanded a maid, curiously enough, not Lizette. "My wife and I have to speak." Before she could protest, Christine was drawn away from her companions into Raoul's study.

They stood face to face in the little room, Christine summoning her courage, trying to remember that this was the husband she loved. "I must speak to you Raoul. Tell me you love and that you apologize for what has transpired. I love you and I want our life together back again. But you must be true to me, I cannot tolerate adultery." She looked hopefully at him, and Raoul stared dumbly for a moment. Then a fury overtook him and broke his calm surface. "Apologize! Christine have you lost your reason? It is my right as a MAN to do as I please." He advanced on her, grabbing her shoulders and pinning her against the study's door. His face mere inches from hers as his voice increased its volume. "You should apologize to me, to be so impertinent after all I've done for you, saving you from the monster under the opera house, raising you up from the nothing that you were, making you the Countess Du Chagny." As I recall it he let us go. Christine's voice had vanished, the argument dying on her tongue in the face of Raoul's rage. He pressed her even harder into the door; she winced but made not a sound. "Stay if you like, but understand you are to never argue with me again." He released the arms he had been pinning to the door, his anger seemingly gone beneath his calm, charming exterior. Christine had never known such a monster could exist beneath the loving exterior he had always shown to her. She felt as though he had become a possessor of things and people, and that he believed as he had said, that all things should be to his liking. "Let us forget all of this Christine." For a moment she could see the old Raoul, sliding back into place to cover the horrific inner self. It called to her, it tempted her. "We can go back to how it was, just accept the way things are." She focused her vision on him, bringing together all the strength she could muster, she knew that she could not just accept and pretend that all was as it once was. Seeing the lack of response and the look in her eyes, Raoul knew that this was a battle he was swiftly losing. "Fine, go collect your things, I'll be nice and let you take anything I've bought for you. Understand that you will be back though, you need me, without me you are nothing. " Christine felt like spitting in his face, instead she simply left him standing alone in the study. Out of spite Raoul shouted behind her "I should have left you in the bowels of the opera house." She realized than how those moments ate at him, how much her actions then must have torn at his subconscious. The door was quickly slammed behind her.

A mere half-hour later, Christine again sat beside the Girys in their carriage, headed back towards what was home for now. She had only taken the most modest and inexpensive of her dresses, one of the finer gowns, a couple of pairs of shoes, a little jewelry, various undergarments and nightgowns, one coat, and one bonnet. All this totaled to only a fraction of all that Raoul had given her, but she wanted nothing to do with his money or his gifts right now. She had been inclined to take the last of her monthly allowance though, so that she may have something to live on and something to give the Girys by way of rent. She could not bear the thought of freeloading off the two, though they claimed they had money enough to spare, Christine hated the thought of being a burden. Raoul's last words haunted her mind throughout the ride home, as she sat silently brooding and staring out the window. They had stung less than he had intended, a lot less considering all the events of the last few days. They had produced in her mind a sense of disorientation and a few uncomfortable thoughts. Sense her home of the moment was with them, Meg and Madame Giry tried every effort throughout dinner that night to make Christine feel comfortable and to try to cheer her obviously dismal thoughts. Their efforts went unrewarded as she sat for the most part silent, barely picking at her food. As Christine lay awake during the night, she couldn't help be feel like the little unwanted orphan, arriving at the opera house all over again. She felt as though she had no one left in the world. She had been shattered twice in a lifetime. She lay there wallowing in her own grief and misery, when a cold thought crept its way across her consciousness. This time there would be no Angel of Music to turn to in her misery, no comforting songs, no words of encouragent, no voice to bring her back to life. Out of loneliness, she began to miss the man who had once terrified and enthralled her. Now, in this moment, she knew what it was to be utterly alone. She pulled the blankets around her and began to sob all over again in her new found hopelessness.

For the next few weeks, Madame Giry observed as Christine went through the motions of being a person that still retained an interest in life. Everyday was the same, she would sleep late, dress, eat whatever remained of breakfast, help the maids with housework or read, she would have dinner with the family, then she would go upstairs, do God knows what, and go to bed. Madame Giry observed this as silently as possible. She worried deeply about the woman's sanity, for she appeared to be in mourning as deeply as when her father had died. She tried all she could think of to break Christine out of the prison of her thoughts, but she responded to nothing. On Christine's part, everything she did, was directed at avoiding any extraneous thoughts, all thinking did was upset her. She tried to numb herself so she wouldn't feel the stinging pain of day to day existence. While she could have joined Meg and Madame Giry at work at the opera house, she didn't want to burden them and wasn't sure about spending time there at all. It was in these unsettling, nightmarish weeks, that she found herself learning more about laundry and polishing than she ever wanted to know or thought possible to know. The maids were nice enough to indulge her, though at times she was more of a burden than help. They felt sorry for her though, she seemed like a lost little girl during the times that she spent with them. The weeks past, and the hurt lessened, but Christine was still lost, not knowing what to do with herself, she held fast to her routine. Madame Giry felt ready to make one last attempt to draw the girl back into reality. She cornered one afternoon as Christine made beds. "Tomorrow night there will be a production of Il Muto, Meg will be playing the pageboy, and I will watch from a box, would you like to attend with me dear?"

"Il Muto..." She whispered, the very title sending shivers down her spine. "I...I'm not entirely sure. I haven't been to an opera in years, I'm sure you understand." Madame Giry would not be deterred. "Christine, you must let go of ghosts and live your life. Come to the opera, enjoy yourself." She hesitated, as though she would again refuse. "Consider this a maternal order then. You will come to the opera willingly, or I will drag out of this house." She smiled sweetly and left Christine to her bed making.

The next night Christine nervously readied herself for the opera. She wore the one fine gown she had taken from Raoul, a silver silk with a modest neckline, sleeves that belled at the wrists, a tiny bustle, and delicate lace trim. She adorned herself with the set of diamonds she had, none of them too big, just delicate points of light at her ears, neck, and wrists. Her mind wandered as the maid helped her with her hair, applying the sparkling little pins that would keep it up in its place. She wondered what it would be like to actually watch an opera, not be in it, she felt herself slipping into the past. It was as though she walked down a road in her mind, that road leading her to one eventual place. Why would he again come to my rescue than? Why after I had betrayed him? She blushed, finding herself on the topic once again. Her thoughts were thankfully interrupted by a call from downstairs that the carriage was ready. She descended the stairs, careful of her dress. Madame Giry smiled at her, "You look lovely child. Now we will go and enjoy ourselves." With that they were off to a world Christine had forgotten how much she loved.

Christine shifted nervously in the box her and Madame Giry shared, the orchestra was tuning for the coming performance. Glancing in the program an English name was listed as the night's leading soprano, Helena Ashford. "English girl?" She glanced at Madame Giry. "Yes, she's the toast of the town right now. The men are throwing themselves at her. Her voice is none so good as others I've heard." She gave a poignant look to Christine. "But, she has won the hearts of the public." Christine inwardly bristled at the insinuation, Madame Giry was prodding her to show her talent and become involved. "I hear she has also acquired a reclusive tutor who has taught her all she knows, it is said that he is a genius." Christine knew who she implied that it might be, though she tried to cover her emotions with a blank stare in the direction of the stage. Madame Giry could not be fooled, but she said nothing.

The opera began, the same way it always had. Then the curtains came back to reveal the diva, and Meg in the part of the pageboy. Christine couldn't help but stare at the perfectly stunning woman who sang on the stage. She wasn't wearing the white wig typically worn as part of the costume; instead her hair was itself, long blonde curls. She couldn't see them, but she had heard her eyes were a brilliant green. She looked like a woman who should be a countess, not playing one on stage. The thought made Christine feel a note of self pity. As she sang the part, Christine noticed the lack of vocal quality that Madame Giry had earlier spoken of. As her voice attempted to go up and then down the scale, something happened and she let out a terrible squeak. She flashed the audience a brilliant smile, and giggling she resumed the part. The audience, especially the male half, quickly forgave her. Christine sat through the production, not really enjoying it, even though it was certainly a bigger affair than she had previously seen. Everything in the new opera house was bigger and louder. Christine let her eyes wander the boxes, surveying their occupants. Her breath caught, she swore she saw a face in a mask in one of the boxes. Quickly her eyes were turned back that way, and the illusion was gone. Was I hoping for that? What's wrong with me? The opera ended, she hadn't even seen most of the last act. Meg earned a raucous applause from the audience. Mademoiselle Ashford, as she strode out for curtain calls, blowing kisses was of course greeted by a carpet of flowers thrown onto the stage, and the undying love of the young men. Christine found herself liking her less and less; she was too much a peacock for a woman with her limited talents.

Afterwards, the audience filed out into the great vast lobby, Christine hung back on the stairs as Madame Giry discussed some bit of business with the primary director of the ballet. A great cacophony could be heard in the main lobby, it drew Christine's attention and she walked a little further down the grand staircase to take a look. She leaned over the railing and saw that the great diva herself was out in the lobby among her adoring fans. She had acquired yet another pile of flowers at her feet and there was no shortage of young men hurling themselves at her feet. She smiled and simpered and flashed about those green eyes that Christine could quite clearly now see. All in all the display made Christine want to be physically ill. "Quite a piece of work isn't she?" Madame Giry had come up behind her unnoticed and startled Christine a bit. She was making a face that showed her utter disapproval for the display going on below. "She's something." Was all Christine could reply, for as much as she disliked the woman, she could admit to herself that she was beginning to feel a bit envious of her.

"I'm afraid we're hard pressed to find a singer with both class and talent. It's too bad there isn't someone who could show the strumpet how a true star conducts herself." She gave Christine a smile and another one of her looks that meant she was baiting her into a reaction. The ploy was a weak one however; Christine knew she was trying to get her singing again. It galled her that that the Madame could even think of such a thing. It bothered her even more to think it might become necessary. Now that she was husbandless, she would have to find away to support herself, and there were only two things she was ever good at, singing and dancing. She could depend on the Girys forever. "Damn Raoul." She muttered to herself as she continued down the stairs behind Madame Giry, lost in her thoughts of how to begin making her life anew. She reached the bottom of the stairs and was startled by the shrill cry of "The Countess Du Chagny!" Christine drew in a breath, Dear God in heaven, make her stop. In a moment the obnoxious diva was at the bottom of the stairs with her, placing an arm around her shoulder as though they were good friends. The newspaper men flashed their cameras and made sure to jot everything down for tomorrow's edition. Christine plastered on a smile for the sake of appearances. "It is such an honor one who was such a phenomenon. Your voice was an inspiration."

Christine kept smiling. "Thank you so very much, the honor is all mine, really." Inspiration! Ha. Madame Giry said she had only recently arrived in France, she has never heard me sing. "And where is your husband, the Viscount Du Chagny, this evening?" Her eyes glittered with an icy hatred Christine could feel, and the tone of her voice did little to hide it. "He is at home this evening." Christine coolly ejected herself from the situation. Past tenses, inquiring about Raoul, I know when someone is trying to humiliate me. Everyone in Paris had heard of the split between them. She had been publicly embarrassed and she had no idea why. As she fled the opera house as fast as she could without looking foolish she heard a reporter call out, "Can you tell us more about this mysterious teacher of yours Mademoiselle?" Helena's smile revealed the deep pride she held in her secret. "Only that his name is Erik, and he's very reclusive and talented." The statement drew Christine's attention, but she continued on her way out of the opera house, the sting of public embarrassment burning though out her entire being.

Life returned to its previous state at the Girys house after the night at the opera. It had left her with a few things to ponder, which she tried desperately to shut out of her mind with her daily routine. She had to admit, if only to herself, she missed having music in her life, it had been the only problem and her and Raoul's marriage, up until recently. Madame Giry's hinting at a return to the stage for her had set things moving in her mind. She already knew she would have enemies if she chose to return, Helena Ashford and more than likely her soon to be ex-husband. Her heart clenched up painfully at any thought or mention of Raoul. She still wanted to love, but knew that happiness could never come from him. The pain still lurked, but the love she had once had for him was fading.

To make money, and keep herself occupied, Christine began to give piano and voice lessons to children. She had to admit she loved working with them, they were so carefree and they cheered her world. She regretted never having any of her own. They were always so sweet to her, and worked hard to please because she tried not to be to stern with them. One afternoon Madame Giry flew into parlour where Christine was given a lesson in an excited flurry, tossing out the young pupil, and shutting the door behind him. She beamed at Christine, a smile of triumph. "There is a great opportunity before you. " Christine braced herself for what ever it was Madame Giry was thinking of. "The Paris Opera will present a production of Mozart's The Magic Flute." Christine stared at her, nit exactly sure what this had to do with her, but the Madame quickly went on. "The opera has two major female voices in it, and Helena cannot split herself in two and play both roles. She'll be playing the heroine, Princess Pamina. There will be open auditions for the second voice, The Queen of the Night, in three weeks. It seems that the managers are looking to put a new face on stage." She gave her that look, again. Christine was breathless. A part she had studied, an open audition, a chance to return to the world she had long missed. She hesitated, longing to say she would do this, but a thousand doubts washed through her mind. "You must say yes Christine; this is what you were meant to do." Though she would never give Madame Giry an official yes, she began to practice the part in every spare moment she had. For three weeks she practiced, thinking of nothing but returning to the stage. She never told anyone her intentions, she simply rose early the morning of the auditions, put on a fine lavender dress, and headed off to the opera house.

Christine arrived early and gathered with the other girls in the large lobby. They were soon greeted by the managers, and were told that Mademoiselle Ashford was having a private rehearsal in the theatre with the orchestra and her private tutor, auditions would begin afterwards. They invited them to explore, but to kindly keep out of the theatre. The managers and opera director made a list of the young ladies; upon reaching her they addressed her as the Countess Du Chagny. Oh God, everyone heard her the other night. Her cheeks turned a bright red. "Please sir, call me by my maiden name, for in a few weeks I shall be only Christine Daaé again. She could hear the whispers that went through the room; this would be discussed in every drawing room and parlour by evening. After the list was completed, the women were left to their own devices. A general chatter began amongst the ladies and Christine attempted to draw away from the milling crowd as the managers disappeared. Christine badly wanted to meet this mysterious voice teacher, although she had a suspicion to who it was. That being true, it would explain the diva's vicious verbal attack the other night. A few women struck up menial conversations with her, most resented her presence, fearing her to be too much competition, and she was marred by her oncoming divorce. They crown eventually began to disperse; Christine seized the moment and ventured away from the crowd, toward an entrance to the theatre. Finding one and seeing no one about, she quietly opened the door and entered what was the same level as the boxes of the pit tier. She crept into one of the boxes, and up to the front, hoping no one would notice. She stood in the box, listening to Helena's voice, which carried quite well. Christine could tell how young and raw it was, and how limitedly talented it was. She listened as the woman struggled though a portion of the opera that was obviously new to her. After a few moments Christine's eyes began to wander the length of the theatre, eventually they maid their way to the box on the grand tier where she had seen the mask the night of Il Muto. As her gazed reached it, the breath left her body and it felt as though her heart had stopped. A man in a half mask gazed down at the struggling diva, visibly wincing when she would mangle a note. There was no doubt in Christine's mind, the Phantom was there.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine stared at him for a moment, not able to grasp the reality of the moment. Without thinking she exited the box and hurriedly made her way up the stairs to the boxes of the grand tier and towards the one she had seen him in. She did so not thinking, she simply allowed herself to be drawn in by the riddle of him, the being she could not understand. She quietly slid open the door, to find him finely dressed, and standing now, as if to get a better perception of Helena's performance. She found herself desperately wanting to speak to him, to let loose of flood of words, to thank him for the kindness of so many weeks ago, but her voice seemed to have vanished. She stood silently watching him, paralyzed by emotion. Then his body went rigged, as though he realized that he was no longer alone in the box. In a graceful motion he turned to face her, a look of surprise covered his handsome features, his green eyes growing large.

"Christine", he barely whispered her name, as though she would vanish back into the opera house walls if his voice grew too loud. For a moment they stared, Christine desperately trying to reach the words she had in her mind just a short time ago. She gave up on pretty words and speeches and just spoke to him, trying to remain calm. "I wish to thank you for coming to my aide in the cemetery, for your kindness." Silence yet again consumed them. "Your welcome." He turned away, pained by the sight of her, unable to speak to her and be calm. On the stage below, Helena had become frustrated with the part of Pamina, and had the conductor to switch over to something she knew and could perform well. Christine wouldn't give up; she would have him speak to her. "I am auditioning for the part of the Queen of the Night in the upcoming opera. This shall be my return to the stage." Her heart pounded, waiting to see if he would answer or ignore her. "I didn't think Countesses were allowed on stage." They were on the edge of an abyss, both near falling, breaking. The truth of it began to dawn on Christine, the truth she had so long buried within herself. "I shan't be a countess much longer." She was thankful she spoke to his back, he could not see the flush in her face and how her chest heaved. "Erik?" The name fell pitifully from her lips. I am alone now, don't you see. From the movement of his back she could tell that his breathing had become quite rapid. Her hand reached out, longing to touch him, almost it caressed his shoulder, before it could, he spoke. "Christine, please just leave, I don't have the time or strength to speak to you as though we are old friends." His voice wavered as he spoke, the emotion in it evident to her. Tears filled Christine's eyes. He hates me now. The thought overpowered her will, the tears fell. Everyone hates me, Raoul, the diva, the other singers, the socialites of Paris. But only you have reason Erik. The sorrow she was running from consumed her; she forgot where she was, who she was with. He heard her crying, unable to stop himself, thinking only that she needed him, he turned back to her. "Christine, don't cry." They were so close, they were practically touching. He began to reach out to her, to take her in his arms and comfort her. My love, I can't bear your sadness. Christine steeled herself, his touch would break her, break all the careful walls she had made against the truth of her past. It would be easy to give into the moment, to fall into his arms.

From below, a new song reached their ears, Helena's voice summoned up the dark past with a melody long thought forgotten. "You have brought me to the moment when words run dry…" Rage filled Erik's eyes as he whirled around to face the stage and the offending singer. His voice bellowed out commandingly. "Everyone out of the theatre." The musicians and conductor hurried to obey, leaving behind instruments and sheet music. Judging by their reactions, he was as feared now as Helena's mysterious teacher as he had been as the Phantom. Erik flew past Christine and out of the box, leaving her standing, gaping at the stage. In seconds he was there beside Helena, having taken some back route to the stage. "I told you to leave that piece where you found it." He snarled at the blonde who glared back, arms crossed, eyes shifting a sidelong glance in Christine's direction. She saw? "It's not yours to use and it never will be." Helena made a graceless snorting sound. "Why not? I adore it and think it is genius. Would it have something to do with the circumstances of its writing? With her, perhaps?" Her voice had cooled to an icy tone, and she gently cocked her head in the direction of the box and Christine. She beamed an acid smile of triumph at his silence. "You still believe in her, perhaps? Still long for her?" Her words were like razors, cutting through Erik's defenses, revealing old wounds, leaving him emotionally naked before the heartless diva. "I am though with all this. I shall return to England. Find yourself another pupil and companion, if you can." It was a dark and terrible insinuation. She would leave me to be alone, again. She turned her back to him, smiling all the while, knowing that she was the one in control. Erik lowered his head like a scolded puppy. He forced himself to come to her, wrap his arms around her, and lay a kiss on her neck. "My dearest, do not leave me. True I have wronged you, but I apologize. You are the only woman I need in my life." Helena giggled and laid a kiss on his lips.

Christine stood frozen in the box, unable to tear herself from the horrible scene unfolding below her. It filled her with a deep seizing pain to watch how cowed he was by her. As he wrapped his arms around her, Christine dashed out of the box and toward the stairs, intent on escaping the theatre. She reached the lobby, her breath ragged, her eyes filling with tears all over again. Overly made-up tart! How could she do that to him? He was once so strong. She felt as though the whole world had completely and utterly lost its mind. Her heart ached, she wanted nothing more than to retreat and go home, forgetting the auditions entirely. Her mind disagreed with her heart, telling he that she must face this challenge, that even if the Angel of Music had lost his strength, she must retain hers.

When the order was read for the auditions, she was dead last. Wonderful, they'll all be asleep. She had no doubt someone had arranged for that bit a misfortune, but resolved even harder to not only go through with it, but to win. She waited anxiously backstage for hours as would be stars paraded their way onto stage and attempted to woo the men in charge. When her turn came she slowly and deliberately made her way on stage, trying to calm her jumpy nerves. She imagined the first time she had sang for the managers of the old opera house, after Carlotta had stormed out. How confident and beautiful she felt, she tried to summon up these feelings again. The music began and Christine's voice took up the song, quietly at first, barely audible, but in moments she began to relive the triumph of Hannibal and all her childhood dreams restored themselves before her eyes. Her voice grew stronger; she became enraptured by the moment, the opera house filling with the glory of her voice. The aria came forth beautifully, such that even the legendary high note was sung with such loveliness that the angels themselves would have wept. Christine felt a great release, all the past was gone in that one shinning moment, and she was where she had always been meant to be, on the stage. The notes ended, Christine stared at the crowd that had gathered in the theatre, and they stared back. Then slowly, applause began, and it built to a thunderous cacophony that brought her out of the daze that had followed the song. Her face flushed a bright red as she noticed that the crowd before the stage had come to its feet. For the first time that she could remember, Christine felt absolutely jubilant. Walking on air, she left the stage to be greeted in the wings by admiration and envy. Some of the women and opera house employees who had gathered there were in open support of her, others huddled together to shoot vicious looks in her direction and whisper fiercely about her. She gathered her things and left the building, trying to avoid any sort of fuss. The managers dismissed the stragglers and ordered employees back to whatever it was they were supposed to be doing.

Christine was aware that for most of the ride home, a smile was locked on her face. Her mood was one of victory in the face of all adversaries. Until she remembered Erik, then her radiance faded. How different he was, how dependent, kowtowing to the blonde princess. How unhappy my presence made him…No that's enough. I'm acting out of my own loneliness. I can't act melancholy all the time, I must move on. She banished all thoughts of him, trying to look towards the joy she had felt moments ago.

Arriving home she was greeted with smiles of anticipation, they were waiting for the tale of triumph. Christine related her performance and the reaction it received; being not one inch modest she stated that she believed she had succeeded in winning over the managers. "Well then, we must celebrate." Madame Giry proposed. With that a spur of the moment dinner was set into action for the evening, many from the opera house being hastily invited. They came, wanting to meet Christine, for all had heard of her audition, and its effects on those who heard it. The house filled with a joyous, laughing, crowd. There was a warmth and sense of family about them as the celebrated the soprano who was to join their ranks. For the first time Christine got to spend a time around Meg's beau, Henri. Henri was an average man, not to tall, thin, short, curly black hair, brown eyes, and an absolutely heavenly voice; he would play the second male voice in the upcoming opera. He was charming and good humored, and lived in adoration of Meg. Christine gave many a sigh that night watching them. Round and round she went, being dragged to and fro by those who would be her allies in the opera community. She smiled politely, answered questions, and received compliments. It wore her out, especially since she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and cry some more, for the one face she longed to see was not present. Finally, the long dinner ended and she was allowed to wander her off to her room, where she fell into an exhausted slumber, and dreamed of that which now seemed unattainable.

Two days after the audition and the great supper, an envelope arrived for Christine. The return address was a Monsieur Erik Le Seul, in a neighborhood near the cemetery where her father was buried. That's how he found me there. She was mesmerized by it, and hurried off to her room to open it where no one could see her reaction. Slowly, carefully the envelope was opened, and the single piece of folded paper was withdrawn. A man's fragrance wafted off of it, bringing a smile to her face. Not wanting to see what it said, but dying to, she finally unfolded it and read the one sentence the note consisted of. "I have had opportunity to listen in on the managers the past few days. Congratulations, you will no doubt steal the hearts of Paris all over again" Christine clutched the note to her chest, she felt as though her heart would break. Damn the choice, damn it. The pain she now felt put the final cracks in her walls against the truth of that one fateful night so long ago. Her heart ached for the note to say more, and this told her volumes about her own feelings. "Oh Erik, if I only I hadn't been such a child." She whimpered to herself, collapsing on the bed.

A day later, yet another note arrived at the Giry household for Christine, this one from the opera mangers, asking her to come to the opera house for the announcement of the new soprano. While the others in the house celebrated the news of the triumph, as coded as it was, Christine readied herself in a subdued, quiet manner. Dressed plainly, trying hard to look excited, she left the house for the theatre, not even sure why she was doing what she was doing anymore. Once there she was escorted backstage in a clandestine manner, to make sure no employees or journalist spotted her. While waiting for the announcement she was given formal introductions to those she would be working closely with, the managers were Monsieur's Ardon and Gambi, the general director of productions Monsieur De Lata, and Monsieur Le Sobriano was the maestro. Gathered in the theatre before the stage were all the employees of the opera that had cared to turn out for the announcement, including Helena Ashford, dressed in a ridiculous concoction of an overly showy light green dress, and sitting front row. The managers walked on stage and calmed the noisy crowd. "We'd like to announce our selection of a new soprano, the opera's second female voice, and the woman who will play The Queen of the Night in the upcoming production of the Magic Flute… Christine Daaé." Most of those assembled cheered, including the Girys and those who had been present at the celebratory supper. Christine gracefully walked on stage to stand beside the managers, blushing. The world started to spin, the cheers growing louder, Christine felt faint. Then out of nowhere, Helena appeared on the stage, mere feet from Christine, her face contorted with rage. "I will not share my stage with her." She spat vehemently, pointing an accusing finger in Christine's direction. "If she stays, I will leave." The entire crowd erupted into shocked murmurs, everyone looking to their neighbors to see their reactions, the scene as entertaining as any opera, and the audience enthralled. Clearly they could not lose Helena's star power, but it seemed a same to dismiss Madame Daaé. The managers were in a state of panic and were on the verge of caving into the diva when a strong voice rang out from above, a voice that had the Girys giving one another wide eyed stares. "You will do no such thing Helena Ashford. This is unprofessional and deplorable behavior. You will share the stage with Madame Daaé; she has every right to sing here as well. Walk off now and I assure you, your career is over and you will no longer receive instruction from me." The gathered crowd was instantly silenced, the voice filled them with a great terror, and many had to fight not to flee it. Stopping in her tracks, Helena wondered if Erik was bluffing, if he had the mental strength to go through with what he had just threatened. Finally, uttering a noise that was in essence a growl, she flounced off stage, gesturing consent, and returned to her seat. Though as she left, Christine could swear she heard the words, "You'll regret this" from Helena's direction. "Well, if all this is settled," Monsieur Gambi addressed the assembled masses, "Rehearsal begins in two days, bright and early."

Christine returned home, her mind a stupor of confusion, her heart heavy. She wished only to know what thoughts lay in the mind of the man who acted as though he detested her, but relentlessly came to her aide whenever he was needed. She had secretly left behind the Girys and all those who wished to celebrate her new position, and returned home alone and trudged upstairs. She pulled her hair down and began to run a brush through it in a concerted effort to calm herself, it was then that she spotted the envelope and note she had kept on her bedside table. Although arose, unbidden, but not entirely unwelcome. Not bothering to return her hair to its former state, she threw back on her cloak and rushed back outside, catching the carriage just after the Girys had returned. They were already inside, and Christine had slipped past them, now she implored their driver her to take her to the address on the envelope.

Arriving at the house, she told the man to wait for she didn't know how long she would be. Christine slowly ascended the stairs of a modest, but beautiful, stately brick house. It was not the house of a man as wealthy as Raoul, but someone who was definitely well off. The house for all its beauty seemed a terribly lonely place. Hesistantly, she rung the doorbell, after what seemed an eternity to the nervous young woman, she heard the lock being undone, and the door swung open to reveal the inside of the house and the man who stood in the doorway. A face in a mask peered curiously at Christine, there he was, Erik Le Seul, the phantom of the opera, her longtime ago angel. There was a moment of mutual staring between the two. "What are you doing here Christine?" Not bothering to keep secrets any longer she answered truthfully. "I wanted to see you again." Not waiting to be asked in, she brushed past him and into the house. Erik was too stunned by her earlier statement to attempt to stop her, so he moved out of her way and let her do as she would. As she stopped to remove her cloak, he stopped her, "You can't stay long, please." A sadness seemed to come over him as he spoke, as though he didn't want to banish her from his house. Christine entered the living room, the entirety of which was dominated by a grand piano that was covered in sheet music, the only other furnishing was a couch near the fireplace. She seated herself on the couch, not sure where to go from there, Erik remained standing in front of her. "Truthfully, I wanted to know why you once again helped me today, I mean you must despise me." Erik answered her with a look that made her heart shake, a look of terrible grief. "I could never despise you Christine. That's all that I can give you is the assurance that I will never be able to hate you." As he uttered those words to her, she felt very alone. As alone as he must have been all those years, as alone as she must have left him Erik saw the effects his words had on her. "Don't look so sad ma chérie, you will find another man." Not the one I desire. "And what of you, Monsieur Le Seul, who fill your lonely nights, Mademoiselle Ashford?" She bit the words out with a terrible scorn. Erik's first response was a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and sigh. "I suppose you could say that." "Why her of all people?" His eyes were once again full of that all consuming sadness that seemed to be the stuff his entire life was made of. "It is better than being alone. She came looking for me, stories of the genius opera ghost dancing through her mind. Se begged me to teach her, to make her a star. I refused of course, but she showed up on my doorstep everyday, finally I gave in. She had become my constant accompaniment for the past few weeks, and I hadn't the strength to deny myself the human contact. She was someone to talk to, even if her voice and personality grated on me more than Carlotta ever did." Strangely enough, the two shared an amused look at the mention of the preposterous diva. Erik's eyes quickly turned from Christine a looked out the window to the street in front of his house. "At first I hoped we could learn to love one another, and as things developed, but I always knew she was trying to keep me under her thumb, to control me. Sometimes I make myself believe that she means it when she loves me. She is all false though, from her iron curled hair, to her cleverly disguised common Irish dance hall beginnings, she's a snake in women's finery. I know that I am to her, only a means to fame." Only once had he ever felt this broken in his whole life. For once he had allowed himself to speak the truth of his vain mistress out loud. It was more a confession to himself than Christine. Her being there was a whole other set of problems for him. He silently upbraided himself for slipping in her presence, wondering why he had to confess all to her. In his thoughts he had strode over to the piano and idly began to play, guarding from her the tears that had come to his eyes. "I've said too much, you should go." She hesitated, wanting nothing more than to come to his side, to stop his hurting. She knew that the side he hid from her was shedding tears. "May I come to see you again sometime? I am a bit alone myself." She tried desperately to ganer some vague hope from the situation. "Go, Christine."

In moments she had fled the house, tearing into the street to avoid a desperate outpouring of emotion that was obviously not welcome. No sooner had the door closed behind her than Erik collapsed on the piano bench, his body wracking with sobs. God why must you torture me so! Why now does she stare at me like that! Why now? Loving her was torture enough, but why her possibly being able to care for him now was too much. He couldn't risk himself with her again.

Christine stood breathless beside her carriage, her heart longing to run back in and throw her arms around Erik, her mind telling her that she was a fool as he abhorred the very sight of her. She wanted so badly for him to see she was not a little girl anymore, she was older and wiser in the ways of life. Convinced that he no longer wanted her anywhere near him, she climb into the carriage, telling the driver to take her to her father's grave. When they reached the cemetery she padded silently towards her father's tomb, her mind quiet. She kneeled before the marble structure, and crossing herself said a prayer for her father's soul. Then as she opened her eyes, she poured forth her entire story to the senseless stones around her. Tearfully she confessed all the details of the last few months, up until the last few hours. "Oh, father what am I to do? I threw away Erik's love once. Now he doesn't want me, now that I...that I...that I know that I love him." The words broke Christine's barrier against the painful truth of it. She had left the man she had loved out of fear of an all consuming love. She had walked the safe road, the road well traveled, and she was filled with a terrible regret for it. She sat on the steps of the tomb, in much the same position as the day Erik found her, sobbing into her arms. 'What am I to do?" No answer came forth for her, angels no longer spoke to Christine. In the end, the only thing she could do was return home and began preparations for her first rehearsal.

Rehearsals came, and Christine proved why she had once been an overnight sensation in the opera world, enrapturing the entirety of the opera house with her voice. The only person who still spoke out against her was Helena herself, whose down cries fell on deaf ears. Christine flung herself into her work, loving every moment of it. She no longer worked to forget her emotions, but began to enjoy life again. The rehearsals went smoothly and opening night approached an expected success. Christine looked forward to that night with anticipation unequalled by anyone in the entire company within the theatre. She wanted to show all of Paris, Helena included, what real talent, her talent was.

The afternoon before opening night, as Christine prepared to leave for the opera house a note was carried into her by the maid. The paper and scent were, by now, both familiar to her. Not knowing what to expect from him, she opened and read a sentence that sounded to her like the sweetest words ever written. "I shall be in box 5, grand tier. Look and you may see me, for I will see you, ma chér." It was simply sighned, "Erik". Christine had to sit quickly, lest she faint.


	4. Chapter 4

Fallen Angels Chap.4

Christine sat nervously in front of the mirror of her dressing room, waiting for the make-up girl. Thoughts flitted through her mind as she tried to calm herself: the aria was a masterpiece of Mozart, Meg would perform tonight as well, Madame Giry would be backstage, and so on and so forth to avoid thinking about the actual performance and the man who she knew would be watching. Eventually, she came to him within her circle of thoughts, and loosed a very loud and uncouth sigh. How she wanted to impress him, to make him see her as she used to be, the brilliant singer. Finally the make-up girl entered and Christine knew that curtain time drew near. Ready or not. She thought drolly.

Christine's role began almost immediately in act I, and then she vanished until act II where the famous aria occurred. Her character was a force in act II, and unfortunately she had to share the stage and sing with Helena, who for some curious reason was not reacting to her presence. Perhaps she really is afraid Erik will leave her. At the end of the production, applause rained down on the two divas, Christine was embraced by the public once again. Helena looked as though she was turning a sickly shade of green at the accolades being showered on Christine, who was all smiles as she hurried back to her dressing room and the mountain of flowers that waited for her there. The blooms covered ever spare inch of the small room, leaving her barely able to move. As she perused the collection, she noticed several notes and small gifts from a number of eager fans. Her eyes then found the one thing that she only could have hoped to find, within a vase on her dressing table, there was a single rose tied with a ribbon of black satin. She gazed longingly at it, as though it would vanish into thin air if she should dare attempt to tough its beauty.

In a moment her peace was shattered as the door to her dressing room was flung open. Strolling in, without even asking her permission was Raoul, dressed in his finest evening attire. "Good evening, Madame, how is the greatest voice in France tonight?" His smile and words exuded a malice Christine did not even know he was capable of. "I come to give you one last chance my dear." From his jacket he produced a large envelope and proceeded to wave it about in front of her nose. "Here are your precious divorce papers, all they require is signing. I want you to give this a long hard thought. If you ask it of me, I will restore you to your position by my side, in your answer is still no, I will send these along."

Christine gave him an open mouth stare. The utter gall of the man, to believe that she would return to him. She shook with fury, even as she knew that behind these words of compromise, she heard him threatening her. "How dare you!" She fumed, no longer wishing to be intimidated by everything in life. "Leave my dressing room at once, or I shall have you escorted out of the theatre." Raoul just turned that sinister smirk on her once again. "Christine, you are my wife." Once again she heard the threat and knew that there were many things a man could legally do to his "wife". "Not for long." She retorted as defiantly as she could muster.

Suddenly, Raoul's eyes drifted to the rose, and Christine's eyes widened in horror. God, what will this provoke him to. He delicately picked it up to hold in front of his face as though savoring its sweet fragrance. He then began to laugh as though the rose signified some great private joke. "Well, well, well. I would ask you to supper _Little Lotte_, but I fear your Angel of Music would protest." He continued his maniacal laughter. "You may have your misshapen monster then if you will Christine." The jibe got to her, but she didn't believe for a moment that he was about to leave her in peace. She was actually terrified at the instability of sanity he seemed to be displaying. "He's not a monster." She said softly, not wanting to start a fresh argument with a man who was losing his mind. Raoul placed the rose back in its vase and turned to leave her. "You will regret this, dear Christine." the door slammed behind him and Christine was left alone, the happiness of moments before faded.

The production of the Magic Flute was a raving success, playing from mid-February until near April. The last opera for spring was planed to run until the start of June and that would end the opera season, when the hottest months drove the upper class residents to escape Paris to the open countryside. Christine did not see Erik again during the run of The Magic Flute, although she did receive the odd rose, and a couple of small notes on the occasion that her performance and been especially good.

Christine found herself crumpled to her knees when she received news of what the season's last opera was to be, Don Juan Triumphant, by one Erik Le Seul, a mysterious composer and vocal teacher. Her heart broke, he had never wanted that opera performed again, she was sure he had been left no choice in the matter by the uncompromising prima donna. From the moment the announcement came, Helena began prowling about the opera house like a self-satisfied house cat. After a couple of weeks of rehearsal, the performances began, and they went well enough, Christine performing the second female voice as Helena butchered the lead. The opera, which years previous before the Commune, had been considered vulgar and bizarre, was now hailed as a masterpiece. It was given rave reviews, except for Christine, who could not muster any of her usual stage appeal. Her heart was not in the place it should be, and she simply went through the motions of performing. Erik was invisible to her now completely, no word coming from him in all the weeks the production ran. She hated the whole business and desperately wanted the season to end.

The evening before the last performance, the managers held a great ball and lavish supper, to mark the end of one of the most successful seasons in theatre history. For some reason, as she readied herself, some primitive intuition told her that Erik would be there. She carefully inspected herself in her mirror, studying the outline of the elegant light blue and lace production that the managers had insisted on buying her, the lace over coat that covered the near sleevelessness of the dress, her fingers caressed the diamonds at her throat and ears. Meg silently entered into her room, her light pink dress swaying around her form. She took one note of her down cast look and felt her heart break with sympathy for her friend who had suffered so much. "What sadness troubles you these days? You never say a word, but I know you suffer."

"Oh, Meg." She finally broke down before her friend. "I don't know what to do with myself; every choice I make is faulty. I thought I loved Raoul, but I see the folly of that now. It's too late to go back though." Christine began to cry very softly, not wanting to embarrass herself. Meg threw her arms around her friend and drew her close, trying to comfort her though she had barely understood much of what the girl had been babbling about. "Christine, I wish I could help you somehow." "It's no matter." She tried desperately to smile as she dried her tears. "Let's go before we are late." Stiff upper lip, strong like true diva. She tried to draw her strength for the evening ahead.

The dinner, the first event of the evening, dragged by, Christine and the Girys seated near the managers, Helena and escort conspicuous by their absence. She glanced down to see Meg avidly chatting with Henri. Ah, her beau, soon I will be the only one left. Through out she tried to make polite conversation with those around her. She found out that the managers wanted to risk Helena's ire and have her star in a production next season, despite her problems during Don Juan Triumphant. Men occasionally attempted to flirt with her as they passed where she sat; she weakly brushed them off, not putting much heart in it. Finally after the seemingly eternal meal, the dancing began. Suddenly she found herself fighting off would be suitors, declining more dances than she accepted. Resolving to end the display, she tracked down Madame Giry, intent on standing in the woman's intimidating presence. She noticed that the woman's eyes were fixed on the scene of Meg and Henri twirling across the dance floor. A sigh escaped her lips. "Young love." Her eyes became dreamy and far away. "I feel I soon may have a son." The statement suddenly made her feel very alone, though she felt a certain amount of happiness for her friend. Helena arrived at some point and could be seen gliding about with the son of a rich business man, a man who was definitely not Erik. Christine knew he was there, she could feel his palpable presence. Sighing to herself, Christine left her protective position, and sought the solitude of the second floor balcony. Silently, she closed the glass doors behinds, making sure no one would follow her. Christine stared over the edge of the balcony, lost in her misery.

The figure that had stood unnoticed within the shadows at the edges of the balcony stood behind Christine, watching the mental anguish the girl was obviously in. She had been so absorbed in herself that though she had passed near him, she hadn't seen him at all. He watched her now, admiring the cut of the dress, the beauty of the lace overcoat, the sparkle of diamonds, taking note that there were even some stones worked into her upsweep of chestnut curls. She glittered in the moonlight, looking absolute angelic, as her tears spilled off the balcony to the street below. Unconsciously, he reached a hand out in her direction, but was too far away to touch her. How he wanted to touch her, take her in his arms and make all the pain go away. I can't, never again. Erik was not willing to risk the pain that losing her brought. He came closer, causing her to finally notice his presence, and look up towards him. At the sight of him, her desperate tears were put to a sudden stop. "Why?" Her voice quietly asked of him. "Why, what?" God that sounded stupid. "Why Don Juan?" Why are you putting me through this? "Helena wanted to perform it. I felt obliged to allow it to her." Why am I doing this to myself? "Why?" Why do you care about that sow and not me? Erik felt an anger rising in him, both at himself and the questioning girl before him. "Because it is better that living life alone." He practically shouted at her, causing Christine to cringe. Immediately he felt terrible. Why does it have to be her I always hurt? Christine felt obliged to return his outburst as she had been made frantically emotional by the whole conversation. "Why her, why loose your dignity over all of this?" She was shouting now as well. How pathetic we've become the two of us. "I can't give you answers Christine. You have no understanding of what it's like to be alone." For a moment she did not answer him, a look of shocked outrage on her face. "I can't understand! I am alone Erik, I have no family left." Her voice was still raised, but she was no longer shouting. "Just because your husband left you doesn't mean you understand, you are just wallowing in self pity." With that last remark he was almost sure she would strike him from the look in her eyes. "Don't presume to know what my situation is. Your precious Helena is out there with some other man. She cares not one whit for you, and soon you'll find yourself cast aside." Her tears had returned, but she hid them from his view as she made her way to the balcony doors. "I see now that it is truly over." With that she slammed the doors behind. "Christine, I wish you could understand." He stood alone on the balcony, feeling the tears he'd been desperately repressing rise up.

Christine fled the opera house and returned home, leaving the Girys behind. She dashed up to her room and stripped off all the fine clothing and jewelry, leaving it in a pile in the corner. Curling herself into a ball underneath her covers, she cried herself to sleep. When Madame Giry returned her first thoughts were to check on Christine. She found the girl burning up with a fever and mumbling incoherently about ghosts and angels. Putting a hand to her forehead she gasped. "Child, you are ill." Christine looked as though she were trying to smile. "Lovesick Madame." Her smile turned into a grimace of pain. "In love with a man who no longer loves me." "Raoul?" Madame Giry's curiosity was stirred. "No, I've forgotten what loving Raoul was like." She then drifted back off to sleep. Madame Giry hurried to fetch a maid and get ready to tend the sick girl throughout the night. Poor child, that damnable night is still destroying her.

For three days and nights, Christine's body raged with influenza, her fever rose, she hallucinated, and she complained of not being able to breathe. She also missed the last performance of Don Juan Triumphant. In one strange moment of those three days it seemed she was lucid, and before her she saw Erik. She tried to speak to him, to tell him how sorry she was, but found she hadn't the strength. He locked eyes with her. "You must get well Christine, you cannot die." She felt as though she were drowning in her thoughts. God, let me come back and I will put everything right again. She prayed into the silent darkness. On the morning of the fourth day, her fever lifted, and she seemed to almost miraculously revive. She recovered slowly, and by the middle of June she was healthy enough, if still terribly depressed.

Christine's recovery was followed by the happy announcement of Meg's engagement to Henri Frances. There was a summer wedding in the works within hours of the announcement. Christine tried hard to loose her pain in her friend's happiness, to occupy herself with the duties of a maid of honor. The whole household was flung headlong into planning a wedding that would be the most grandiose a ballerina ever had. The opera house was to be the wedding site, and the reception held there afterwards. Secretly, Christine spent a lot of time sighing to herself and plotting her life as a spinster with Madame Giry.

One evening Christine sat perusing wedding dress designs with Meg before the Girys were off to dinner with Henri at his parents' home. "Are you sure you don't want to come with Christine, I'm sure it won't be a stuffy affair." Meg tried to sound cheerful and joking to hide the real concern that she had grown for her friend's deteriorating mental state. She teasingly pulled one of Christine's brown curls. "I'm sure. I think I'll retire early, I'm not as healthy yet as I could be." She smiled reassuringly, for in reality she could not bear to see two people so in love. "Alright, but don't get lonely here by yourself." Meg kissed her cheek and bounded off to the waiting carriage. Christine dismissed the servants for the evening and locked up, intent on having the privacy to cry herself to sleep again. In a matter of moments a knock came. Thinking it was someone returning to retrieve a lost item, Christine opened the door without looking at who was there. As soon as it was open Raoul swooped in, leaving two "hired men", thuggish brutes, on the stoop. He slammed the door behind him. "Ah, my dear Christine, it has been awhile." He loomed over the petite woman. "I think it is time we had a talk." Christine tried to banish her fears and stand strong. "No, we don't." She turned to walk away from him and Raoul grabbed her arm mercilessly. "You are mine." He spat out angrily. "I am not ready to be rid of you yet. You are coming back with me to return to your proper place as my wife." Christine struggled in his grasp; no longer fighting the fear that had began to creep up her spine. "Never! I despise you Raoul Du Chagny. What makes you think I'd ever touch you again, I'll die first." Raoul's free fist connected with the right side of her face, Christine screamed in pain, her eyes welling with tears. "You will learn to watch your tongue from here on out woman. If you do not return to me, your lawful husband, than I shall have the Girys arrested for kidnapping and imprisonment." Christine's mind filled with dawning horror, Raoul had enough money and influence to make it happen. "No." She weakly croaked out. Raoul flung her across the room and colliding into a wall. "And I shall find your beloved Phantom and have him killed." In her heart she wanted to cry out, to strike Raoul for this, but she found herself paralyzed with pain and fear. When did he become such a monster. With a demented smile Raoul knelt beside her and began to draw up her skirts. "Maybe I should make you fulfill your wifely duties here and now." She barely whispered her refusal. "Or have you already let _him_ between your legs, harlot." Raoul's hand which had been lightly caressing Christine's thigh suddenly squeezed it hard enough for her to cry out. He wanted to punish her for the last few months and this was only a petty start to it. Pulling away her undergarments, he revealed her most delicate area, and ran an appreciative finger around it and gently inserted it into her. She almost threw up with revulsion at his touch, but lay unreactive as he fingered her. "No response am I no longer able to satisfy you, wife dear." He laughed mockingly and pulled his finger out. "Or maybe you want something more?" He unbuttoned his trousers and removed his stiff manhood, and drew close to her, threatening to take her against her will. Christine stopped breathing in a moment of sheer horror. Not this, oh God. Raoul was apparently satisfied by her whimpering and tears. He jerked her head up by the hair. "I will see you at dawn or the Girys will spend the rest of their days in prison. He flung himself back into his pants and strode out leaving Christine a tearful mess on the floor.

Damn him! I'll not be his slave, but the Girys won't pay either. I'll leave this country, go to my birth land. She would head to Sweden where she might still have some family living. Quickly her bags were packed, not wanting to risk anyone discovering her, even though she was sure they would not return until near dawn. She had a new purpose in life now, to defeat Raoul and escape him. One, last visit to father's grave. Hiding her bag's, she tread out into the dark streets to say good-bye to her father and the city she had for so long known as home.


	5. Chapter 5

Fallen Angels Chap.5

The cold bleakness if the gravestones washed around her like an ocean tide in this land of the dead. Christine came to her father's tomb to tell him of the recent events and her plans for escape from Paris. "And now I will go to Sweden. What do you think father?" She sat silently in a state of meditation for a long time, reflecting on her life and the twists and turns it had taken. She turned her head in the direction of Erik's house. I can't leave without saying good-bye.

As she approached Erik's door, her heart felt like a lead weight within her chest. She knocked, no answer, so she knocked again a bit louder. After a few knocks of increasing loudness, she gave up hopes that anyone would answer the door. Maybe he and Helena eloped. A sad smile crossed her features at her humorless joke. In one last bid, she tried the door handle; if Erik wasn't home perhaps she could leave a note. Christine let out a shocked gasp as she realized the door was indeed unlocked and it swung open before her. She entered the living room, that was defined by the over powering presence of the giant piano. As her gaze wandered over it, she noticed that there was a piece of music out that Erik must have been working on. Flipping through it she discovered it was on opera entitled Helen and Paris, or The Romance of Troy. How blissfully narcissistic. I can only imagine who this might be for. However disdainful the idea of an opera written for her rival, the piece intrigued her. Maybe if I wait a little while, he will return. Christine lowered herself onto the piano bench and began to play one of the beautiful arias that were within the opera.

Upstairs, Erik awoke quite suddenly. Who the hell is in my house. He rolled out of bed, placing a mask on the right side of his face and donning a robe. He checked his appearance in the mirror before descending to the first floor. Might as well meet burglars as good looking as possible. He crept along the hallway, realizing that the sound that had woken him was that of the piano being played, and a woman's voice. Halfway down the stairs he was greeted by the recognition of the voice and the sight of Christine, sitting at the piano. She was singing Helen's aria from Act II of his opera. In it Helen describes her feelings about betraying her husband Menelaus and her feeling for Paris. She has feelings for both of them and wants to hurt neither, she is a woman torn. In truth nothing more than a little lost girl searching for love. This was the truth Erik had come to understand of Christine, the truth of her pain and confusion. He crept down the remainder of the stairs, noting that she was both crying and singing. This he could tell by the intermittent sobs she produced, for her long unbound hair covered the entirety of her face, giving one the impression of a burial shroud. He approached her slowly, not wanting to frighten her. He stood beside her, not daring to speak for a moment. "Christine." He finally whispered in a low and throaty tone. No more torment. Oh Lord, take this cup from me. She said nothing, just stared forward, her hair still obscuring her features. Erik suddenly became enraged by her audacity; the time was long past where she could just wander into his house and place her hands upon his things. Listening to her singing had the aria had broken his heart, and all she cared about was whatever had her upset at the moment. She was an entirely selfish being, caring for no one but herself. He snatched the sheet music up from before her. "Never touch any of my music again Christine!" He was infuriated as he tossed it aside, waiting for her response. Christine only inhaled in an effort to smother the sobs that threatened to consume her. Getting her emotions under control, she spoke to him, completely ignoring his outburst of moments ago. "I have come to say good bye Erik. I leave for Sweden in a matter of hours." He leaned towards her, as always feeling the powerful pull that seemed to draw them together. He reached out as she attempted to turn away from him and forced her face via his hand on her chin to turn to face him. "Why?" His breath coming slowly, seeking only what had harmed her to this point, no longer angry. He let out a gasp of outrage as her face finally met with his, her hair parting to reveal the bruise that covered the right side of her face. "I can no longer live in the same country as the Viscount Du Chagny." She said, her voice revealing how resigned she'd become.

He still held her chin, gently cupping it now, reluctant to let go of her. "No, you can't leave Christine." He whispered, his heart filling with a deep ache, the same ache he'd felt years ago after she'd let him with Raoul. "Why? What is left for me here but despair?" Bloody Hell. He felt the walls he'd built to keep her out start to crumble, he couldn't turn his back on her pain, it was something he had never been able to do. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his body. She took refuge in his unwavering grasp. "Don't go, or if you must, let me go with you." He leaned down on his knees beside the bench, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Christine, I love you." Swiftly she turned to look into his eyes, disbelief painted itself over her features. "You still love me?'' Her voice was quiet; afraid she'd misheard and would now face the unpleasant truth. "Come away with me Christine. We can see the world together. Please, come with me." He had melted, even if it meant risking his heart again, he couldn't allow her to walk out of his life. Looking up into her beautiful face, he made a note to end Raoul's pathetic life. He curled his fingers into her brown tendrils and felt her soften against him, as if his touch emptied the years of pain and denial out of her body. Unable to resist the pull of her lips, he gently brushed his against them. He pulled away, not sure of what her response would be, she darted down towards him and pressed her lips to his in a deeper kiss. Lifting her off the bench, he settled her in his lap on the floor. They held the kiss for moments before Erik risked slipping his tongue into her mouth, caressing her tongue with his. He was satisfied to hear her muffled moans of pleasure. "Christine, Christine." He breathlessly clung to her. "Love me, oh God, just say that you love me Christine." Her breathing had become just as ragged as his own in the desperate passion that was mounting between them. "I do Erik, I love you. I want you beside me where ever I go. Tell me you'll forgive me the past." Joy, utter joy, the words he had so longed to hear finally fell from her lips. "All is forgiven love." "What of Helena?" She kissed him yet again, robbing him of all reason for the moment. "Forget her. I'll leave her the opera and be done with it." He deftly stood up and scooped her into his arms to carry her toward the stairs. He would make the most of this evening, he would show her all that he had wanted her to know from the moment he had first laid eyes on her, all the emotions she brought forth from him.

Christine giggled like a newlywed as Erik gently placed her on his bed, contemplating how her being in that particular spot increased her beauty tenfold. As he sat down next to her, Christine untied his robe, gently pulling it off to reveal the nightshirt he wore beneath. She kissed the hollow of his throat and worked her way up his neck, to his cheek, and finally his lips, drawing from him a level excitement he was not aware he was capable of. He pulled her dress over her head and began slowly unlacing her corset. Christine's breath raced as Erik moved slowly with the laces, wanting to increase her desire, and not hurry them along. After agonizing minutes passed, Christine burning with desire through out them, Erik removed all her complex undergarments, leaving her naked before him. He drank in the sight of her exquisite body, her porcelain skin, her pert breasts crowned with supple pink nipples, and the tuft of brown hair at the apex of her legs. The whole while Christine felt an ever growing ache between her thighs, she no longer simply wanted Erik, she needed him. Her breasts burned for his hands, her lips for his kisses, and her most secret part to be filled with him. Erik tentatively reached to caress her hardened nipples with his fingertips. Christine shivered and let out a low moan. Guided by her obvious desire, he reached out to cup one of her breasts fully in his palm, and hold it while massaging the now almost painfully hard nipple. He kissed a line from her neck down and suckled at the pink flesh, gently at first, then harder as her moans urged him on. His hand traced its way up the creamy flesh of her thighs, gently spreading them, and caressing her causing the wetness between her legs to increase. "Wait, my love. It is not fair that I am the only one without clothing." He pulled away a bit as she grasped the nightshirt and tried to remove it. "No, dear, please. I'm not ready for you to see." Christine was not dissuaded, and yanked the nightshirt off. Marks similar to those that covered the right side of his face trailed their way down the right side of his torso, ending near his hips. His hardened member was somewhat deformed as well. "You see now what a monster I truly am." The sadness that she knew so well overtook him again, he believed she would leave now that she saw the whole truth. Christine reclined on his bed and drew him down towards her. "Never a monster my love." She tried to convey all her love to him in a hard and impassioned kiss. He returned his hand to the place between her thighs and slowly inserted his fingers into her, their motion drawing an instant, vocal response from her. The rapid motion of his fingers soon brought Christine toward climax, calling his name as her juices flowed around his fingers. Erik quickly moved to place his mouth between her legs, as she attempted to prevent him out of lingering sense of shyness. He simply brushed her hand away and continued onward, laying light kisses up the length of her thighs, noting the painful bruise Raoul had left. Slowly he let his tongue run over the outside crevices of her, bringing it to the node of flesh that made Christine arch her back in response the waves of pleasure that crashed through her. Erik's careful ministrations with his tongue were soon followed by by Christine's crying out "For God's sake Erik just take me!" She pulled him by his shoulders until his hips were positions next to hers, and sensing his hesitation, she pulled him into her, both uttering a cry. Erik began a desperate thrusting against her, reflecting their mutual need for the contact they now shared. In response to him Christine's legs lifted higher to wrap around his back, allowing for deeper penetration. The increased sensation soon brought them to edge of their desires, Christine's voice rising like an aria in Erik's ear. They both came together in a crashing union that left them exhausted in their positions.

They lay together for a long while after their frantic lovemaking, staring into each other's eyes. Christine noticed that she did not feel the usual wetness that followed a man's passion, but chose not to mention, guessing Erik had an array of physical abnormalities that would be painful to bring up. She lightly stroked his silky black hair. "My sweet Erik. How can I repay you for all that you've given me?" He had given her the world, her voice, her career, and his love. It seemed up until now she had never given him anything but pain. "All I ever wanted was you Christine, beside me." He held her close, gently tracing the outlines of her body with her fingertips, her eyes seeking his deep green soulful ones, her heart aching upon seeing that they shone with unshed tears of bliss. Only now did she realize that half his face was still obscured by the mask, it pained her that they could share such physical closeness and yet he left a mental and emotional barrier between them. "You were always truly my Angel; the truth was hid from me until now." Of its own volition her hand reached up towards his cheek and soothingly stroked it, drawing nearer to the mask, yearning to remove it. "May I?" Erik nodded his silent assent, closing his eyes, frightened by what her response would be. Slowly, she pulled it away, to reveal the twisted side of him. In a breath taking moment Christine became aware that she found no horror there, only beauty. Her lips drew near and laid one solitary, redeeming kiss on the deformed tissue, causing Erik's eyes to swiftly reopen. "I love you Erik." This time the tears could not be prevented as they rolled down the sides of his face and onto Christine's soft flesh. "You do not know how long I've been yearning to hear those words from you." He enfolded her in the fiercest hug she had ever felt, nearly crushing her. "I love you my wondrous Christine." They locked into another passionate kiss. Reluctantly Erik broke the kiss. "You must get dressed. We can leave now and retrieve your things from the Girys on the way out of town." "No, Raoul may have the house watched, if you're seen you'll be killed. I'll go alone, and return to you." The worried look he gave her was smoothed over by her kisses and promises to return shortly. A few moments later they were bidding each other farewell at the door, Erik leaning down to bring his lips to hers one more time before she disappeared into the night. "I will return shortly mon amour." She whispered as she took her leave of the sanctuary of Erik's house.

Raoul, the Viscount Du Chagny, had been watching the stately brick house for some hours now. He had guessed that eventually his estranged wife would come, especially when he demanded her return, so he had made it a point to know the address sometime ago. Seeing her exit the house, he sent his burly hired men to shadow her, and confront her when she was awhile away, to prevent her from returning. He would bide his time until he was sure she quite a distance away. A sinister smile played around his lips, it was all coming together for Raoul Du Chagny, and soon he would be rid of his most hated of enemies.

Christine's pace on her trip back to the Girys' was nothing short of a run. She wanted nothing more than to return to Erik's arms to begin their new life together. She flung the front door open and flew up the stairs, noting that it was near midnight, and worrying that her plans could be interrupted any minute by the return of her friends. Collecting the bags and arranging a traveling cloak on her shoulders she caught sight of herself in the mirror. It was as though she saw the woman framed in the glass for the first time, drawing nearer she studied herself. Since before her marriage to Raoul she had stopped paying attention to what her reflection truly looked like. My God! I have truly grown up. She no longer had a girls figure, but a rather well filled out woman's one, her lips were full and rosy, and her eyes were dark and sensuous. So this is what Erik saw in me all along? She mused to herself, knowing now that he hadn't loved the silly little girl at the opera house, but had loved the strong, beautiful woman she would become.

After descending the stairs, Christine stopped at the desk to leave short note as to what had become of her to ensure that no one worried themselves unduly over her. Closing the door behind her, she made her way out into the world, ready for her new life to begin. Now walking at a reasonable pace, Christine's heart froze as Raoul's two thugs approached her. "Good evening Madame, you wouldn't be on your way to return to your lawful husband would you?" She wanted to scream in the man's face, she wanted to kill them for this. No, God damn him, he will not rob me of this. Trained by years of quick dance movement, she lithely darted around the burly pair and ran towards Erik's.

In the shadows he waited, giving the dear girl time enough to reach home, focusing on the building before him and the man within. Raoul crept up the front stairs, rapier unsheathed and in hand, and entered Erik's house.

Erik, unaware of the man who now watched his home, was finishing packing what belongings he would take. He was taking two important musical scores with him, one was the opera he had composed for Helena, and the other was a long forgotten opera meant for Christine, Hades and Persephone. He had the fondest hopes that now he would finish it and Christine would star in it when she returned to the stage after their flight. His attention turned from his task as he heard the door downstairs quietly opened and footfalls that were definitely not Christine's. He reached for the first weapon at hand, his favorite rapier. As the unknown party reached the top of the stairs, Erik was there to greet him. "Du Chagny." Erik growled. "You!" The young Viscount spat, stunned that his stealth had been detected, and charged Erik, his sword going before him. Erik deftly sidestepped the misguided attempt at a run-through. "Still haven't been working on that swordsmanship." Erik smiled ferociously and rushed Raoul, the two clashed and separated. The pattern repeated itself several times, each time saw Erik the victor, and finally he managed to knock the Viscount's sword away, sending it clattering down the stairs. Erik hefted his sword, and advanced on Raoul, preparing for the killing blow. I should have finished him a long time ago. Spinning backwards, Raoul floundered out of the way and ducked into the bedroom. The first thing his vision encountered was the state of the bed, and upon the pillow he could clearly see one long strand of brown hair, the sight enraged him. She let that beast under her skirts! Yet she refuses me! Raoul screamed out to Erik, who was coolly approaching him, sword still in hand. "Christine has returned to me." The words froze him where he stood, causing Raoul laugh upon seeing how the trick had worked. "She only waited for me to come to her and ask her to return; now she gives me leave to finish this messy affair." Raoul walked calmly toward the man who had become as still as a statue. "After all, why would she want a mangled freak like you, when she could have me?" Erik finally released his sword, all the fight gone out of his heart. Why Christine? Why have you done this to me? Now beside Raoul whispered in his ear as he sank a vicious fist in to Erik's stomach. "Christine could never love you." Erik collapsed as the Viscount's blow knocked the wind out of him, no longer feeling any reason to fight.

Christine fled the thugs as fast as her body allowed, trying desperately to reach the safety of Erik's house. All too soon, however, she was overtaken and walled between the two burly men. "Sorry Madame, but we have orders to return you to where you rightfully belong." Glaring at them in frustration and rage, she tried to dart around them, but was successfully walled up again. "There's really no point to struggling, the Viscount's taking care of your paramour right now." He then sounded out something that sound like a bestial grunting that Christine took for laughter. Erik! Her fury gave her strength beyond her delicate form and she swiftly brought her knee to the groin of the man she faced. He crumpled over and groaned, as Christine darted around him, pushing him the path of her other pursuer. Soon both lay on the ground in a tangle of limbs and curses. The distraction gave her a head start and while the two eventually made it off the ground; she was lost down an alternate route. Her anger and love carried her through the round about way she took, eventually losing the men and reaching Erik's house. Realizing that she yet carried her solitary bag, she dropped on the porch and frantically tore off into the house, toward the upstairs where she could clearly hear Raoul's demented shouting.

Raoul cruelly kicked Erik in the chest, sending him toppling over backwards. Taking the tip of his boot, he dislodged his mask. "Poor pitiful Phantom, lost without Christine. He won't even fight back." Raoul sneered. "You're pathetic, and that's exactly why she doesn't want you." Raoul reached down and grabbed Erik's shirt. "Do you hear me, she doesn't want you!" He was shaking him, violently trying to get his point across. God, just let him finish me. I want to die. Erik stared at the ceiling, wishing a real angel would come for him. Raoul released him and spit in is face, turning from him he hefted the standing candelabra up and twirled it so the candles pointed at the floor. Brandishing it before him, he advanced on Erik. "I'm going to make you even uglier than you are now." The candles began to make their way towards his face.

"Erik!" The scream caused both men to turn towards the doorway where Christine stood, breathless and bedraggled from her flight. In her eyes, Erik saw all the love and concern she held for him, and knew himself a fool for ever doubting her. "You came back to me." Erik whispered, not daring to believe what he saw before him. While Raoul gaped at Christine like an imbecile, Erik calmly rolled out from under the candles, grabbed the candelabra, and used it to forcefully yank Raoul to the ground in the position that he himself had formerly occupied. After the quick switch, Erik righted himself and was now standing above Raoul, and brandishing the candelabra in his face. "Maybe I should make you even uglier than I ever was." He gestured the whole burning mess at him. "You malicious, filthy bastard, after all you've done to Christine, you deserve it." He pressed in closer, little by little.

"Erik, no. he isn't worth it. Don't cover yourself in blood again, especially not for the likes of him." Christine's hand on his stayed him, and he slowly began to back away. She chooses me, there's nothing left to prove. When Erik's guard went down, Raoul let a growl and placed a well aimed kicked at the candelabra and sent it sailing across the room to land on the bed. Erik's and Christine's eyes widened as a dread filled them both at the Viscount's mad persistence. The man dragged himself off the floor and turned to once more to stalk towards them as the bed burst into flames. "I will not let go of what is mine." The flames now had the entire bed engulfed and would soon spread to the rest of the room. "You are out of your mind Raoul Du Chagny." Erik took a composed attitude the desperate situation they were headed into. "Go Christine, get out of here." Nodding and giving him a lingering look that spoke volumes of her feelings, Christine dashed out of the house, unconsciously grabbing Erik's mask and bag off the bedroom floor, and did not stop until she reached the front yard.

Raoul's posture was one of a man who wanted to continue the now pointless and stupidly dangerous brawl. Again he attempted to come after Erik, fists blindly swinging. "For God's sake, we're both going to die up here!" Erik spun to avoid him and ended up with his back to one of the bedroom windows. "Let us then. If she won't have me, then she can't have you." Again came the blind and furious movement of Raoul's fists. Erik shot out a hand and with a grip like steel he grasped the Viscount's arm. Noticing that the room was almost entirely in flames, and that the floor beneath the bed was almost burned through, spreading flames to the downstairs as well, Erik realized they were almost out of time. Using Raoul's momentum against him, he stepped away from the glass and hurled his adversary head first out of it. Christine's going to be upset about that. Two stories shouldn't kill him though. With the room, and likely the rest of the house, steadfastly burning behind him, Erik dashed down the stairs and out of the inferno into the front yard and the waiting arms of Christine.

Christine hurried to him and wrapped her arms around him, placing gentle kisses on his cheeks, before she leaned her head on his chest in relief. She took the mask that she had retrieved and placed in on his face, as the firefighters and police would soon arrive. At least his dignity can be spared. Christine had observed what had become of the Viscount, and that he had landed on his head. She had made sure he was alive, but could do nothing for his lack of consciousness. "Erik?" She asked, still clinging to him. "Why did you throw Raoul out a window?" He looked down at her, a little surprised that she wasn't upset at all by the event. "It seemed like the best option I had at the moment." A smile lit up her petite features, and abruptly the whole situation became uncontrollably uproariously funny causing her to laugh uncontrollably. Before he knew what came over him, Erik joined her, her girlish giggle thrilling every part of him. Gently lifting her chin with his finger, he cut off all sound by kissing her firmly, never wanting to have to break away from the beauty of it. They were interrupted by the arrival of the authorities to the scene. Upon finding the unconscious Viscount, a constable came to question the pair.

"Mind explaining all this to me?" He asked in a typically gruff police way. Erik fed the man a half truth quite glibly. "You see, sir, the good Viscount was in the middle of a divorce with his wife because he learned of our affair. To be able to leave her with nothing though, he had to get proof of her infidelity. So, he snuck into my home to obtain his proof and ended up knocking over some candles. When the fire started to spread he got frightened and jumped out the window." The officer turned to Christine. "Is this true Madame?" Christine summoned her powers as an actress and tried to reply in kind with Erik's confabulated tale. "Yes, I am afraid so. I feel wretched about this whole incident and wish to give him the divorce he wants. If I were to send a letter to his lawyer confessing, could you see that he gets it and that his lawyer starts the process for?" He smiled a reassuring smile at the woman who seemed so distraught. "If you wish to Madame. He'll be taken to the hospital, and hopefully when he wakes up, he will have his divorce." The constable gave a look of confusion to the masked man and lovely young woman before him, but said nothing, he had better things to do than get involved in domestic squabbles. The two watched as the fire was put out, leaving not much of Erik's beautiful home behind. "I'm sorry love. I didn't mean for all your things to get ruined." Christine turned to him with tear filled eyes. "Don't think on it dear, they were just that, things. You are what matters to me." He kissed yet again, not caring if the world saw. Moments later, the constable's superior appeared beside them and allowed Christine to write the self incriminating note to Raoul's lawyer, before telling them that the official investigation would likely rule the whole affair and accident and that it should amount to no more trouble for them than petty gossip column fodder.

"Where to now, my love?" Their plans for leaving seemingly no longer necessary. "We'll go back to Girys' I suppose. We can plan things from there. The pair set off serenely down the streets of Paris, hand in hand, bags weighing them down, the past couple of hours seeming to melt away. After a bit of their walk, Erik uncomfortably cleared his throat. "I had thought you left me for him again." Christine abruptly halted their progress to turn and face him, her eyes seeking his, wondering at the sadness she found there. She opened her lips in an attempt to assuage his fears, but Erik simply put a finger to her lips. "Now that you will be free of Raoul, for his lawyer will certainly force the divorce through, thinking he is doing him a favor, do you still want me? Do you need me even though you won't need my help to escape?" Hurt that he would ask her this, yet understanding why he must, she dropped her bag to the ground and answered him with a deep and impassioned kiss, her tongue sliding sensuously into his mouth, her arms wrapping fiercely around him. "I still love you and want you Erik. Never doubt that I always will. I know that many things have happened tonight, and emotions have run high, but I regret nothing I have done tonight." She once again stared into his eyes. "I mean that. I only regret that you doubted me for even a second." A stray tear trickled down her cheek. "I am sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you Christine. It is hard to believe you would want me over him." Realizing that she never told him the truth, Christine sighed, she would have to someday, but tonight she was tired and would be concerned he would go back and finish Raoul. "Let's go, I'm exhausted." After a moment more of lingering in one another's arms, they continued back on their way.


	6. Chapter 6

Fallen Angels Chap.6

Uproar had consumed the Giry household, Meg was hysterical, Henri, who had accompanied the ladies home, was threatening Raoul's life, and the good Madame was simply pacing back and forth, trying to figure out the evening's events. When the trio had returned from dinner they had found one or two things broken from Raoul's earlier rampage and Christine gone with a note in her place. They had read the note that simply stated that she was leaving Paris and not to worry about her, although it mentioned nothing of her husband, they all suspected his involvement.

When the doorbell rang sometime later it was answered with both shock and relief. Dirty, sweaty, sooty, and thoroughly exhausted, Erik and Christine stood on the steps, clinging to one another, bags in hand.

"Well do come in, don't just stand there." Madame Giry beckoned them both in, as Meg ran forward to exuberantly embrace her friend.

"Christine, you're safe." Her gaze then encountered Erik's form, still within inches of Christine. Her eyes widened. "What's all this then?"

"Yes, do explain." Madame Giry gave Erik a look that would cause a lesser man to shudder. As they moved into the living room Christine began to relate the tale of the evening, Raoul's threats, her visit to Erik, barring some personal details, the thugs, the fight, the fire, and eventually the unconscious Viscount.

"An incredible tale my dear. Now Meg it is time for bed, Christine run a bath for yourself, Henri you may go and feel free to call on us tomorrow afternoon. And you, I wish to speak with you." As the girls begun to ascend the stairs, Christine turning to give Erik a reassuring look, Madame Giry pulled him into the parlor and swiftly shut the door behind them.

"Explain to me exactly what you are thinking, I know well of your affair with the Ashford girl. I love Christine like a daughter and will allow no one else to harm her. After tonight I'd say she has endured enough for a woman of her age."

"My and Helena's business will be over by tomorrow afternoon, that much I promise. I can assure I would never do anything that would hurt Christine; you should know that very well Margolis." He stunned her by using her first name, reminding her of the familiarity between the two that she would have rather forgotten. "I have changed since the opera house; I've tried to leave my anger behind. I intend to become worthy of Christine, and I will marry her if she desires to have me as a husband."

She smiled then, feeling as if one worry could at least be lifted from her mind. She had known Erik was watching Christine for sometime, but she had been shocked to see them together. He had confirmed her long held belief that he truly loved the girl though, she had heard the depth of his feelings in those simple words that he had spoken, and now as a mother she gave him her blessing. "Than I am glad for the both of you, and hope that you can find happiness within one another. Now go upstairs, I am sure she is waiting for you."

As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Meg whisked Christine into her room for a much excited sisterly chat. "Is it truly him?"

By the accent on the word him, Christine knew exactly who she was thinking of, and it wasn't Erik the vocal teacher. Christine smiled bashfully. "Yes."

"How remarkable that you are together again, it must be fate." Meg's hopelessly romantic nature showed through as she continued on about soul mates and destiny with a dreamy, star filled look in her eyes. All the while Christine was silent, the memories of their last night at the old opera house flooding back to her. Poor Erik, I truly almost destroyed him. I certainly destroyed the only home he had ever known.

"Christine, are you alright?" Meg had noticed her friends eyes seemed to be focused on the wall, and she hadn't said anything in a few minutes. Christine just vaguely shook her head as if coming out of a trance.

"I'm just tired. I'll draw a bath and head off to bed."

"Will you stay now that Raoul will no longer be a threat?" Her voice was childlike in the pleading note that crept into it, she had lost her friend once when she had married the Viscount and didn't want it to happen again.

"I hope I am able to, you and your mother are my family now and I would much rather stay." The two embraced tightly and said their goodnights, after which Christine headed off to the bath.

As the bath slowly filled with water, Christine began to disrobe, feeling less constricted by the moment. Her many layers fell to floor, her body illuminated by the soft candle light that gave the room a comforting glow. The moon and stars shone brightly through the small window, giving her the urge to wish upon the boldest star. I wish we could be together always. The door behind her opened with a small click.

"My I join you, ma chéri?" His voice whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver, while his arms enfolded themselves protectively around her waist, a gentle kiss was placed on her neck.

"Of course you may." Christine turned in his arms and began unbuttoning his shirt, placing a kiss in the location of every button she undid. As he shrugged off the shirt, Christine found his lips in the low light of the candles. After relieving him of his pants, they both descended into the tub. Wordlessly they washed away the filth of the long night and with it all the hurts of the past few years. Needing no signal they both withdrew from the bath, and headed off the bed. Christine beckoned him into her room, with her; Erik tried to point out the impropriety of this and what the neighborhood would think. In response, she held him tight in her embrace and laughed that sterling high little giggle Erik loved so much. "My love, I am already an adulteress."

Erik couldn't help but laugh as well, as he scooped her up in his arms before laying yet another passionate kiss on her endearing cherry lips. Carrying her into the bedroom, he gently placed her in bed, as one might a small child, before climbing in beside her. He felt her petite form snuggling up beside him and wrapped his arms around her after removing his mask and laying it on the table beside them. He found himself more comfortable now that they were in total darkness where she could not see the horror that was his face. Christine looked so peaceful he could scarcely believe that he was the cause of her contentment. Demurely, she turned her face up to him, her dear blue eyes barely visible. "I love you Erik." Her voice wavered as sleep threatened to overtake her.

His heart felt like it would burst. He had not even known that he was capable of feelings of such depth. His love for this woman, who had grown so much and so far from the silly little girl she once was, overcame him. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks, and hoped she would not notice. "I love you too Christine." Feeling, for the first time in his life, true bliss in living, he let himself drift off to sleep.

The morning light poured through the window, urging him to rise. Erik resisted, afraid to wake and find last night a dream. The foreboding vanished as pair soft lips closed over his own, and a pair of delicate arms wrapping around. It was rather like being enveloped in silk. "Good morning my love." He pulled her tight against him, not being able to will himself to release her. Finally he opened his eyes to her, and the bright daylight streaming through the window. "Shall we go downstairs and be sociable with the rest of the household."

Her tumultuous curls fell every where around, being dramatically backlit by the sunlight, looking much look a halo. Her lips were full and pouty, and her eyes glazed from sleep. She looked entirely like an angel this morning, in her cream colored nightgown. He never wanted to share her with the world again, he wanted to take her far away and give her joy and pleasure in a place where humanity could never touch them or hurt them. Instead, he consented to go downstairs and join their hosts. After hastily dressing they made their way downstairs and to a late breakfast. Immediately, Christine was reminded that the day would be hectic, with Meg's wedding being a week and a half away. Christine's hand raised unconsciously to the bruise Raoul had left, and Erik squeezed her hand reassuringly, trying to wordlessly convince her that it should mostly be faded by then. When things began to get knee-deep into plans for event, Erik excused himself without much notice, sighting some personal business of his own.

Trudging through the crowded streets of the Parisian summer, Erik's mood was decidedly black; he had no taste for the task at hand. Helena's reaction was bound to be unpleasant, and the last thing he wanted was to spend the afternoon in a screaming match with his former pupil. For the first time since it had been purchased, he allowed himself to approach Helena's opulent house, gingerly he rang the bell. Expecting a maid, he was taken aback when the frazzled Mademoiselle answered the door herself, still wearing her robe. "I wondered when you might decide to show up." Her voice was quiet, carrying a note of defeat in it, not the shrill, excitable tone it normally was. She stood out of the doorway, allowing him to enter, and lead him into the parlor. She flopped on a couch, most of the cities morning papers strewn about a coffee table before her, a small Spaniel dog leapt up beside her. Absently stroking its head, she turned her gaze toward Erik, he noted with a bit of shock that her eyes were red rimmed and watery, as though she had been crying. "Is it true?" She gestured to several of the "social" sections, glorified gossip columns that they were, that had been laid out. Christ, it made the papers already. In front of his eyes, laid out before the public, was the Du Chagny adultery scandal.

"No, the affair was a cover story, well the length of it anyway. We were not involved with one another until yesterday."

"Shall I congratulate you on finally growing a spine then?" Her words still retained their usual bite. "I take our personal relationship is at an end then?" Quickly, she turned away from him, attempting to hide the hurt in her voice and eyes. His rejection stung her, as inevitable as it must have been, she never thought he would actually go through with ridding himself of her. Erik clenched his jaw. Don't do this, don't cry, don't tell me that you care now.

"Yes, Helena, I am afraid this is where we go our separate ways." A memory struck him of small girl standing on the steps of his newly purchased home in Paris, a home to hide from the world in. Her straight blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she introduced herself, trying hard to cover her Irish accent in a regal London one, speaking terrible French the whole while. She had to be resourceful to have tracked him down. Then she smiled at him, his Helena, the consummate actress. He knew damn well if would have said "boo", she would have fainted where she stood. He shook away the unbidden memories of his sole companion for the last four, ungodly years. Reaching into the bag he had brought with him, he produced the score for Helen and Paris, and in a most gentle manner placed it in her hands. She gave him a weak smile.

"I can't accept this without giving you something in return Erik." Rising, she vanished into another room where she could be heard clearly tinkering with a wall safe. In a few moments she returned with what appeared to be an unhealthy sum of money, and unceremoniously dumped it into the bag he had been carrying, ignoring Erik's shouts of protest.

"Quiet, I have been lying to you about my pay for the last two years; I received a couple of generous raises. I owe this to you, for making me the star you promised me you would." He opened his mouth to protest once more, but was just as soon silenced by her next comment. "Besides, you will no doubt have a wife to support soon; you need it more than I do." She almost laughed at the dreamy look that filled his eyes, he loved that little chit more than anything, she had always known that though. Christine had threatened her world to its very core, and had won. "I hope she is good to you Erik." She reached out to caress his cheek. "I am sorry I could not be, that I had to show you the greedy, wicked side of myself." Her eyes once again left him. "Perhaps I should return to London after next opera season."

Erik couldn't believe this, the fierce powerful woman he had fought with for years, was breaking down. He had to get away, he didn't want to hear the truth behind the words, a truth of emotions he could never echo for her. He made his way to the door. "Good bye Helena. Shall I see you at the Giry girl's wedding?"

"Perhaps. Adieu for now Erik." She leaned forward to kiss him on his cheek, her farewell to the time they had shared together. She shut the door behind him and let the tears fall. She hated herself for using him for so long that she failed to see the wondrous man that he was, until of course it was too late. It had been too late the moment she saw him carrying the bundled woman out of the cemetery to place it in his carriage. She had been with him that day, had known the woman was Christine Du Chagny. I am growing too sentimental in old age. She dried her tears, there was no room for emotion when one was climbing to the top, one had to be ruthless to get anywhere.

Erik exited the house with a small fortune tucked under his arm, trying not to laugh like a madman. Outrageous bitch! Keeping her damn money a secret. Strangely though, he felt saddened to have lost his friendship with the obscene young diva. He knew however, that though her voice was not great, her charisma and stage presence was enough that she would achieve her wish of fame.

As he entered the Giry household, he found himself in the middle of a holy war between mother and daughter over flower arrangements, neither so much as glancing at him so heated was the debate. Seizing the opportunity, he clasped Christine's hand and dashed up the stairs towards their room. Christine gave him a mischievous smile as they began to scatter their clothes about them. She found herself once more under Erik's spell and he proceeded to make love to her with the strength and ferocity with which he did all things in life.

They lay in a breathless after glow; Raoul had never needed shown the need for her that Erik did, the need to hear her love, to feel it. "Love, what were you off to this afternoon?" Her head lay on his chest, her fingers idly entwining in his hair.

"I broke things off with Helena. I don't think she took it well, but I ended up with a large sum of, well, back pay, I guess."

She rolled over so that she now faced him. "How much?" She lifted a quizzical eyebrow at him.

"200,000 francs." Christine let out an audible gasp.

"Erik Le Seul, are you out of your mind! You couldn't possibly have accepted that much money.

"She insisted, apparently she lied to me quite thoroughly about the state of her finances."

Christine propped herself up on her elbows to give him what was supposed to be a fierce glare, Erik found it to be an amazingly enchanting gesture and couldn't help but smile at her. Indulging him, she put on her best petulant pout, giving up on the subject of the money. She knew well that if Helena had made up her mind, there was no fighting her. "I have a surprise have my own." She paused in an attempt at making the announcement more dramatic. "Raoul's lawyer was kind enough to call on me today. He had with him divorce papers previously signed by the good viscount. His butler delivered them this morning after the scandal hit the papers; they believe that they are doing him a great favor by ridding him of an unfaithful wife. Now, I have signed them as well and all they lack is to be processed, after which I will be a free woman." Her lips moved to his again, in celebration of their victory. Moments later, the serving of dinner was announced, and they had to regretfully rejoin reality.

Meg's wedding day dawned with a bright, cloudless sky, the weather promising to be even and pleasant. Good omens filled the early preparation, including a rather special delivery for Christine. Erik had been banished from the house to not interfere with "women's work", and Christine and Meg were just beginning to ready themselves to leave for the opera house, where they would finish dressing, when a knock came at the door, the girls bounded off to answer it. A man in suit stood on the steps holding an official looking envelope.

"Madame Daaé." He handed her the envelope as Meg looked curiously over her shoulder. "You are hereby freed from any responsibilities as the wife of Raoul, the Viscount Du Chagny, owing him nothing, and receiving nothing from him." With his business concluded, the young clerk strode off, Christine tearing the envelope open.

The paper was the official pronouncement of her divorce, repeating the conditions the man had before informed her of. The reason sighted on the papers was the abandonment of the husband by the wife, looking much cleaner than adultery being printed everywhere. Christine's eyes filled with unbidden tears that through the years it had all come down to this. Meg wrapped her arms around her friend.

"I know you are overjoyed to be free, but you are sad now, because you mourn for the Raoul who was your friend. The past cannot be undone Christine, we have all walked a long road to arrive here, revel in the love you and Erik share. There is too little time on this earth already, why waste it worrying over things that cannot be changed."

Her words were the solace Christine needed, they gave her the prompting to begin to forgive and forget the circumstances that had lead to this moment in time. Her love for Erik was all that mattered now, her tears dried. "Come, we must be off to the opera house, your mama will kill us if we are late."

The orchestra was set up near the base of the great staircase, Meg would be married right at the base of the impressive marble stairs, and her entrance would be a breath taking descent from them, with Christine behind her and her mother beside her. Erik had opted to watch from somewhere in the shadows, not comfortable with crowds so large, and not wanting to ruin the day for the girl by having her guests be uncomfortable.

Meg nervously smoothed her silk dress, all white and embedded with pearls. Christine stood beside her, uncomfortable in the champagne pink dress that had been selected for her. Indeed it was not the dress itself, but the color that caused her discomfort. A garland of pink roses crowned Meg's blonde locks, the veil attached to them. As they reached the point of their grand entrance, the orchestra began to play a lovely piece that Christine was sure she had heard no where else. Meg inhaled and descended the stairs, mother at her side. Christine came behind her, smiling as she recognized the graceful arrangement of the music, and who its composer most definitely was. They reached the bottom of the stairs to all the attended inhalations and whispered praises that were customarily heaped upon the bride, a nervous looking Henri waited for them, looking at the floor to avoid blushing. Meg was steadfastly handed to her husband to be and Madame Giry took a seat, leaving Christine to attend Meg.

The service, while it was held in an opera house, was still a traditional, lengthy, Catholic affair. Christine was sure would die from the constant barrage of kneeling, standing, and sitting. Relief sprang forth as the vows were recited, and the bride and groom kissed. As quickly as the priest's duties were finished, the chairs were cleared away for a long evening of dancing and eating. This was no longer just a wedding, but a celebration by the opera community of the entirely successful year.

Christine was passed about the dance floor from prominent patron, to violinist's uncle, to young chorus boy, all the while wishing Erik would emerge from hiding. She was rescued from the endless parade of dance partners by the managers, who were nearly in tears and on their knees when they found her. "Now that you are divorced Madame Daaé, will you be staying in Paris?" Monsieur Gambi wore a hopeful expression over his tears of worry.

"I am not entirely sure gentlemen. If you please, what is all this about?"

"Mademoiselle Ashford announced that she will return to London after this upcoming opera season. We shall be in desperate need of a lovely, talented, leading lady."

"Gentlemen, that is a lot to ask of a woman." She smiled coyly at the pair of them. "I shall require a way to support myself, and I would have to see about my own residence."

"Whatever you wish for Madame." Monsieur Ardon blurted out. "We shall provide you with a home, and adequate pay. We are also very interested in Monsieur Le Seul's compositions; Mademoiselle Ashford told us that we could contact him through you."

"Indeed. Yes, I believe we can come to some sort of arrangement." She smiled sweetly at the pair and wandered off, trying hard to contain a fit of laughter. She imagined the faces of Firmin and Andre if they were to ever find out that their "phantom" was about to become Paris' star composer.

Hours passed for her in tedious boredom. Helena was coaxed before the guests to sing, and eventually Christine was dragged before them herself. Later found her in the shadows watching Meg and Henri dance, her heart bursting with happiness for the girl she had long considered a sister. As she stood apart from the festivities, her mind wandering, strong arms wound their way around her from behind. "May I have this dance ma amour?"

The soft scent of his cologne pervaded her senses, she felt herself melting in his arms. She allowed herself to be led out onto the dance floor. The floated about in a brilliant waltz, Christine lost in his eyes. Don't stop, let me stay like this forever. As the dance ended, Erik lead her away and up the grand staircase. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see, just be patient." He led her toward the balcony where they had encountered each other the night of the ball, so long ago. "Close your eyes."

She obediently did so as he led her out onto the balcony. Christine felt the summer night breeze tickle her skin; it was plenty cool for the time of year. Erik was still gently grasping her hand. "You know, I've never been fond of pink." He leaned down and placed a teasing kiss upon her neck, causing her to release a small flurry of giggles.

"Oh hush, may I open my eyes now." A smile curled the edges of his lips, Erik enjoyed watching her squirm in anticipation, almost declaring that she should spend the next half hour awaiting his surprise.

"I suppose you may." Her eyes opened and Christine gasped as she took in the carefully laid scenery around her. The balcony was nearly wholly covered in candles, many in standing candelabra, others perched on the railing of the balcony. A bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice, two delicate glass flutes on the table beside it.

"Erik this is too much." She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close to her, bestowing her delicate, warm kisses upon his lips. Erik gently lifted up her hand and began to lead her in another waltz below the moonlight. Christine felt her heart pounding against her chest through out the dance, as Erik periodically brushed her lips with his in feather light kisses. He still made her nervous and faint, as though she were still the little ingénue who thought him to be an angel living in her mirror. They dance ended and reluctantly she released his hand to allow him to open the champagne bottle and pour them each a glass.

"To us, ma aimé." They clinked the delicate flutes together in a toast to the future which lay before them. As she lowered her glass, a light reflecting off the bottom caught Christine's attention, causing her to inhale sharply.

"Erik." She spoke his name through clenched teeth, before finally exhaling. She took another small sip of the champagne, to allow her fingers in without spilling it on her dress. She slipped her fingers in t retrieve the shinning object, which turned out to be a gold and diamond ring. Erik watched her expectantly the whole time. She lowered the glass back onto the table, before holding the ring in the palm of her hand to examine it. It was not so grand as the one Raoul had given, which in truth had been too much for her. It was a petite band of gold with elegant knot work in the Celtic style winding its way from the outer edges to the middle, where there was perched a moderate sized diamond with two smaller diamonds on the sides of it, with the knot work surrounding them all.

Erik gently removed it from her palm and sank to one knee before her. "Christine ma amour, ma amourex, say you'll love me forever, say you'll want me forever. I know it maybe too soon for you, but I could resist giving you this symbol of my everlasting, boundless love for you. Without you I do not exist." He stared into the deep blue of her eyes as they filled with tears.

"Erik, Erik, what is there to say? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I could never be without you ever again." He slipped the ring onto her finger and rose to enfold her into his arms once again, their lips meeting.

"Christine you have no idea the gift you have given me, the happiness." He leaned his head onto her shoulder, burying his face in her silken curls. Christine could feel the need, the love emanating from him. She tilted his face back up towards her and kissed him as though the world should come crashing to an end if she ever let go of him.


	7. Chapter 7

Fallen Angels Chap.7

Christine gently rearranged the flowers that rested in the vase adorning her dinning room table. Wild flowers, they smell so sweet, the last of summer's blooms. It had been an extraordinary few weeks since her engagement to Erik. They announced their news to Meg, Henri, and Madame Giry, who all received it with great enthusiasm. Thanks to Meg, the word spread like wild fire throughout the opera community, and to anyone in Paris who kept up with the gossip of the theatres. Everyone was whispering among themselves of the great romance between the lovely soprano and the reclusive genius. Christine was swamped by well wishers every time she neared the opera house. Many were curious about her fiancée and Christine could only tell them that he rarely appeared in public for private reasons. She felt a bit guilty about shunting off people she had grown to know as friends, but Erik was still very vulnerable and she knew that he needed time before he would find the outside world to be a safe place.

True to their word, the managers had provided her with handsome salary and the home she had longed for her. She and Erik were able to move in within weeks of the day they promised it to her. Sometimes it amazed her how one day could have seen so many lovely events after the previous months of personal desolation. When they first had moved she felt guilty about leaving Madame Giry all alone. Christine had been assured that she would be keeping plenty busy when Meg's first baby eventually came along. Until then, she was showing Meg how to run a ballet, in expectation of her daughter taking up her position within a few years. Meg certainly had the talent and the experience, and in a little while she would develop the motherly manner necessary to containing the giddiness of the ballet corps.

The scent of flowers filled Christine's home, Erik delighted in bring her anything that would put a smile on her face. He wrote more and more these days, the managers clamoring for more operas from the masked composer. In addition to composing he had begun to delve into literature as well, and from what Christine had read when he didn't know she was looking, he excelled in that field as well. If he continued to work in the furious manner he had been, he would be famous in no time, and quite rich. Men would pay a fortune for anything that would pack the fashionable society into their theatre. Not that they needed money, with the fortune that had been Helena's gift properly invested and soon to see vast returns.

Christine paced the length of her dinning room, wondering what was keeping Erik. He had gone out on an errand sometime before, and true to his manner, had not yet returned. She was loathe to allow him to disappear without her when the black moods still came upon him often, and the man she loved became a stranger before her eyes. She worried endlessly that one day he would need her hands to pull him out of the darkness and she would not be there, so often she allowed him no time alone. No amount of her love would ever reach some of the scars he carried, she knew that full well. She knew it when he cried in his sleep, when he pleaded with his mother not to leave him, and always she abandoned him to the cruelty of a gypsy freak show. All she could do in those moments was to draw him close to her and whisper that it would be okay.

Leaving her agitated pacing, Christine moved through the house, idly tidying up as she went, before plopping down on the living room couch. As she gazed over the room, it amazed her that all this belonged to her and Erik, their own private world. The sensation of being utterly at home was something she had never experienced in the vast homes the Chagny's owned.

At last, in answer to her frazzled nerves, the front door opened and Christine rushed towards it. Erik stood in the foyer, arms full of roses, looking utterly surprised that she had been awaiting him so anxiously. Christine smiled brightly at the red blooms and kissed him daintily on the cheek. "Love, you shouldn't have."

"Truly I should have. I finished Hades and Persephone this morning; the managers haven't even seen it and they're willing to pay a fortune for it. I'll put these in some water." He was about to walk away when her tiny fingers closed on his arm, halting him.

"Thank you Erik, for everything." The deep blue of her eyes seemed to consume him as he looked into those pools of absolute love and understanding. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him once again, allowing he lips to travel over his jaw line to playfully nip at his ear.

"Christine, you're adorable." She followed behind him to select the vase into which the roses would go, and where would be the perfect place to keep them. No sooner had the left the foyer, than the doorbell rang, calling Christine to it as Erik settled the flowers in the lager crystal vase. She opened the door without hesitation, assuming it to be Meg or her mother, who had been over so often in the last few days. The shock of the figure at the door nearly caused her to faint dead in her own hall. Raoul De Chagny stood on her stairs, as finely dressed as ever and leaning heavily on his cane, beside him was a large trunk.

"Raoul." Her voice came out as no more than a whisper, her body going rigged with the terror that had begun to consume her. God, what is he up to?

"Madame Daaé, I am hope I am not interrupting anything important, but I must beg your leave to speak with you about certain matters." His voice held none of the malice that seemed to have consumed him before, instead it resonated with a description of now broken, once proud man. It was in the moment that they stood there staring at one another, each not sure how to proceed, that Erik chose to make his way towards the living room and saw her staring out the door at the steps before her. He strode up beside her, a single rose in hand.

"Who is it, ma chér?" As he wrapped his arms around Christine's waist, his eyes encountered Raoul. The Viscount stood there nervously fidgeting with his cane, wilting under Erik's glare.

"May I come in? I bring no ill will; I simply have some business to settle." Erik simply nodded and somewhat relaxed the tightened grip he had on Christine's waist.

As Raoul entered he signaled for his man to bring in the trunk that was beside him. After seeing the fury in Erik's piercing eyes, the man quickly fulfilled his employer's orders and made a hasty retreat to the carriage. "These are all your personal effects, Madame, keep them, sell them, give them to charity, it matters not to me. It felt right that I should return them to you. I have come here only to ask forgiveness, to cleanse my soul." Erik still clung tightly to Christine, his eyes burning into the man before him. "May I speak to the Madame alone?"

He clearly addressed Erik; he had no wish to come to further violence with the man. "That is entirely up to the Madame, I have no part in this business." He released Christine who gave him a hesitant nod, causing Erik to turn on his heel and make his way into the darkness descending on the house as the evening settled in. Christine watched as the rose he had been carried crumpled in his now balled fist, the delicate petals streaming to the ground behind him. In a fury she turned her attention to Raoul.

"Well, out with it! Say what you have come here to say before you upset my fiancée even more."

"Fiancée?" His eyes strayed to the ring on her finger; Raoul could hardly believe that in such a short span of time they had become engaged. Not so short though, they have waited four years.

"I simply wanted to apologize to you Christine. I know I have done terrible things. It seemed as though something came apart inside me when my parents died, I could no longer control myself. I know that it is hardly an excuse. And well…" He left off, not quite sure he wanted to dredge the past entirely, to bring back that pain for both of them.

"What?" She questioned, her patience growing thin, Raoul knew that this would be the only time he could ever give voice to that thought which had nearly consumed him for years.

"It hurt Christine." She looked at him, her brows knitting in confusion. "It hurt to look in your eyes everyday and see him there." Her hand flew to her mouth, shocked that he had seen her secret thoughts, the thoughts that she had tried to hide from even herself. "I knew Christine that you longed for him, that you questioned your choice. I saw your love for him clear as day. It drove me mad some days that you yourself could not see that love until the choice was made. I am sorry that circumstances drove me to such behavior. Please grant me your forgiveness, and we will part ways forever."

Christine felt tears pricking her eyes; she never knew Raoul had suffered so. "You're forgiven, I am sorry things between us came to such an end."

Raoul reached up a hand to cup her face. "Farewell Christine, you will always hold a place in my heart." The once proud man replaced his hat, and leaning heavily on his cane made his way out of the door and Christine's life.

Watching him go, she felt a terrible sorrow clutch at her heart; she silently wished him all the happiness in the world. Quietly she closed the door behind him, sliding the bolt into place. Ignoring the trunk, she dashed upstairs in pursuit of Erik, and found him broodingly staring out the bedroom window, watching Raoul's carriage roll away. He had heard her hesitant steps at the door, but made no sign of it until he spoke. "What are you going to do with all that stuff?"

"It wasn't the foremost thought on my mind." She delicately approached him, and saw that he still held the cruelly treated, now petal less rose stem in his hand. She came to his side and wrapped he arms around his strong shoulders, tears glistened in his eyes.

His gaze traveled sadly to the piece of green in his hands. "I didn't mean to crush it, I lost my temper." His voice was so child like, brimming with sadness.

"It's alright, it was an accident." She cooed in his ear, trying to bring him back into the light of her love.

"He still wants you, doesn't he?"

"He did not say in so many words, but yes. It does not matter though; this is where my heart belongs." The tears from his cheeks left wet trails on her hands.

"I can't loose you again Christine." She tightened her grip as he spoke those words, willing him to stop hurting, to physically feel her emotions for him.

"You will never loose me Erik."

"Are you sure that this is what you want? That I am what you want?"

"Erik, don't talk like this." She commanded him, wishing to halt him before he spiraled again into a deep depression.

"Christine, I can never give you a normal life."

"Why would I want a normal life now? I've never had one before." Her desperate attempt at humor was lost on him.

"I hate being out in public. We'll never be social and we'll never have a lot of friends." She just stared at him, unable to believe that he would think that concerned her. "And I can't give you children. You know I am incapable of that."

Her tiny finger was put to his lips to silence him. "These things don't matter to me Erik, you matter to me." She pressed her lips to his, tasting his tears. "There is nothing for me with out you. I want to be your wife, more than anything in this world. Please, try to let go of the darkness of the past and look to the future, our future." She reached up to wipe his tears with her sleeve, gently removing his mask to dry both sides.

"You see I love all you not just one part. Dry your tears, because I am not going anywhere my angel." Erik's arms suddenly encircled her, pulling her tight against him, his face buried in her hair as he whispered his love for her. "I have a dinner to make, love."

He kissed her neck, his hands settling firmly on her waist. "Let's go out. I refuse to share you with the stove tonight, or the dishes for that matter."

She smiled and took the arm he offered. "I thought you hated being out in public?"

"I do, but you give me strength to face the world."


	8. Chapter 8

Fallen Angels Chap.8

Christine stood at the window, breathing in the marvelous country air, letting it calm her. The south of France was strikingly beautiful in these late August days. The managers had been upset when she had told them that she was taking a holiday so close to opening night of the new season, but had eventually conceded, mostly due to Christine already having perfect mastery over the part she would play.

Suddenly, her stomach lurched, giving her the unpleasant worry of vomiting out the window. Father, please give me your calming touch. He had granted such prayers before, and Christine needed his hand on this blissfully nerve-racking day.

She felt his presence all around her in this place, smiling down on the daughter he loved so much. Perhaps it was simply the place itself that conjured him into her mind; she remembered it well from her childhood. The chapel outside of Avingon had been a favorite stop on their travels, connected to a monastery where kindly monks would put up travelers for a night or two. The monks had been excellent teachers, story tellers, and scholars. There had always been a warm welcome waiting for them. Christine allowed her mind to wander old memories for some time, still feeling a bit lightheaded.

"Christine!" The voice drew her back to reality. "Don't go and faint on us." Meg came to stand beside her at the window outpost. "You think you would be used to these sorts of affairs by now." Christine gave her blonde friend a look, which caused an uproar of girlish giggles between the two.

"Now straighten up dear and allow me to fix this." Meg had clucked over Christine like a mother hen all day, and her mother had jokingly stated that she was attempting to steal her job. Now she took a strand of pearls and began working them through Christine's hair, at the same time pining it up, so that the pearls were wound into a dramatic upsweep. She then completed her work by crowning Christine's locks with the veil of cream colored lace.

"Do I look alright?"

"You look beautiful dear." The dress was given a final inspection by the pair to insure that everything was perfect. The entire dress was lace covered satin, in the shame cream shade as the veil. The dainty sleeves belled at the elbows and fell to her wrists, the neckline stayed at her neck, proper to a church wedding. The dress had no cumbersome bustle, instead in belled gently at the waist like a medieval princess. Throughout the layer of lace, hundreds of little pearls had been sewn in.

"Come girls." Margolis Giry called them to the door leading into the main room of the chapel.

"Coming maman." They both responded in unison. Christine had begun to think of her more and more like a mother these days. The veil was gently lifted over to cover Christine's face.

As the church organ played, the small bridal procession entered, Christine glancing up through the veil to where the expectant groom waited. Erik stared nervously at the approaching procession, looking for all the world like he would fall over any minute. His suit was a dove gray, a very fine cut, with diamonds adorning the cuffs, the mask, of course, was in place, a glaring reminder of Erik's striking difference from the rest of the world. To Christine it was simply a reminder that true beauty often lurked beneath the surface. Henri stood beside Erik, trying to calm the nervous man.

Madame Giry took her hand and gently placed it in Erik's, the symbolic gesture of giving the bride to her groom, and Meg took her place beside her. Christine could feel the sweat on his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly as the priest began the ceremony.

I can't believe we've come this far. Christine marveled as Erik, in a nervous voice almost whispered the words "I do."

The same promises were asked of Christine, and in sure voice, looking directly into Erik's eyes, she answered "I do."

Erik's lithe fingers than placed her ring on her finger as he recited the vow he had written for this day. "Christine, you are the only woman I have ever loved. The only thing I could ever desire is that you would allow me to remain forever by your side and to love you for the rest of my life. You save me from myself. I swear I will love you always strive to care for you as my honored and beloved wife"

Christine's eyes filled with tears as she placed the gold band on Erik's finger, they spilled over as she recited her vow to him. "Erik, you have given me back all that I believed lost and more. You have always been my savior, my angel. I love and will be yours as long as you desire me beside you. From this moment on, I will be forever at your side. I swear I will love you and respect you as my honored and beloved husband."

The priest's resonating voice then pronounced them husband and wife. Erik lifted the veil from her face, his heart pounding against his chest. They both smiled as they saw one another in tears. Erik drew his face towards hers and gently gave her the kiss that united them in marriage at long last.

Fin


End file.
